


Ere the Break of Day

by Wizards_Pupil



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Adventure, Angst, Courtship, Dark Thoughts, Deaf Character, Dwarves, Erebor, Everybody Lives, Fix-It, Handicap, M/M, Madness, Possessive Dwarves, Possessive!Thorin, Post-Hobbit, Ring Influence, Romance, Slash, Smut, Thilbo, bagginshield, dwarrows, no one dies, ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-12 02:48:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 71,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wizards_Pupil/pseuds/Wizards_Pupil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin was not in a good mood. </p>
<p>Not that Thorin was often in a good mood. He’d rarely had a chance for a good mood in his life. Not since Erebor. He spent most of his time trying to provide for the people he brought to Ered Luin. In the last year he’d hardly even smiled, what with the utterly ridiculous time he and his Company had had in trying to reclaim their mountain. He’d expected the dragon, and probably a little of trouble with the elves. The constant orc attacks, the goblins, the trolls, and the spiders, had been a bit much, but the bloody battle had just been the end of it all.  </p>
<p>But no, even that wasn't enough. Life still had more in store for Thorin Oakenshield and his loyal Company. It intended to see just how strong he could be where a little hobbit was concerned. Not to mention the fact that the  'greatest calamity of our time' actually had nothing to do with a dragon.</p>
<p>And Thorin couldn't even blame the elves for all their troubles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [破晓之前](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2084316) by [avivatang](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avivatang/pseuds/avivatang)



_“For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him_

_that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing:_

_there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.”_  


_-Tolkien_

* * *

 

Bilbo didn’t actually start to worry right away. He mostly counted himself lucky and just ran.

The dragon’s roar had been dangerously close, and the fires painfully warm before he had managed to worm his way under the scaffolding. Smaug had bellowed even louder in rage and there was a strange popping noise in Bilbo’s ears. He steadfastly ignored the mildly inconvenient irritant and continued to scramble forward and away from the fire the dragon was still blasting. The heat of it had been enough to melt the gems the dragon had perched himself on. Bilbo did not want to even think about the effect it would have on Hobbits.

The popping noise had turned to a strange rushing sound-almost like water zipping down a river, and then it stopped on his right side. Bilbo, still ignoring it, ducked under the last bit of stone, gripped the goblet more firmly and darted towards the passageway.

He’d held his prize tight and ignored the strange static noise in his left ear. The dragon had been very loud after all.

He blamed the trouble he had understanding what Thorin was saying on the fact that the dwarf was being stubborn. Granted, they needed to be careful with letting the _armies_ of men and elves free reign on Erebor as there was a good chance of a mob with that, but surely they could give them something for killing Smaug as a goodwill gesture. Granted, the elves didn’t really deserve anything and the dwarves weren’t really responsible for the damage Smaug did, but again, they had two armies and Thorin had thirteen dwarves, a hobbit, and a broken kingdom with no front gate.

He’d ignored the way he couldn’t hear what the elves said and that the men were barely any more legible. He traded the gem for most of his treasure and then went back only to be banished. The battle had happened quickly and Bilbo began to worry.

He wasn’t just having trouble hearing, and it wasn’t just that the dragon had been loud. He didn’t hear the _warg_ sneaking up on him, or understand the battle cry that Glóin had bellowed before taking said warg out.

A battle was _not_ a good place to be hard of hearing. It was not a good place to discover you were hard of hearing, and it was not a good place to discover you really didn’t understand how to fight.

It was, however, an excellent place to have a magic ring that made you invisible. The strange whispering of the grey world he entered whenever he wore the ring had completely faded. He couldn’t hear anything.

Bilbo very nearly panicked, but it had seemed silly to panic about his _hearing_ when there were people _dying_ around him. He’d dove into the wild frey and managed to take a few orcs out before they hurt his friends. He warned Fíli about an on coming orc and managed to block Kíli from getting hit in the back by an arrow.

Then he’d been clonked on the back of the head by a orc that he couldn’t hear, and he’d passed out.

That utterly horrible experience had nearly been two weeks ago. Two long, painful weeks. Bilbo had woken up under an _ugly_ orc that smelled like the trolls dinners, and managed to pull the ring off before passing out again. He awoke briefly when Bofur found him and carried his body away but he was out again before they reached the healer tents. When he next woke up it was to find Gandalf peering down at him with a frown.The strange buzzing noise that had been echoing around in his head the last few days was gone and it took Bilbo a long time to realize that Gandalf’s mouth moving meant the wizard was talking to him.

Bilbo didn’t hear anything. And not ‘anything’ like he couldn’t hear Gandalf’s muttering. Anything, like he was in dead silence. There wasn’t a whisper of the wind of the faint pounding of his heart. He couldn’t hear the brush of the sheets as he moved against them, couldn’t even hear the sound of his breathing.

Panic then gripped him down to his very soul. A panic that he had never felt before, and Bilbo had been in far more than his fair share of life-threatening situations for a hobbit. His heart had started beating so fast that Bilbo thought it would fail, and he couldn’t get any air into his lungs and that made his vision swim. He cried out and thrashed wildly on the cot he’d been laid on in an attempt to sit up.

All through his fit he didn’t hear the smallest sound. Bofur held him down and Gandalf pressed a hand to his forehead. He mumbled something that Bilbo could still not hear, and the hobbit felt his heart slow down. He collapsed back on the bed and felt wet tears streak down his cheeks.

“What is happening?” He asked, and he couldn’t be sure he said the words. Gandalf turned to look at Bofur and the dwarf glared right back at the wizard. He said something but Bilbo couldn’t read his lips at this angle and he felt his heart give a feeble attempt at beating too fast again.

Gandalf fished out a scrap of parchment from his pocket and wrote something down quickly. He held the paper in front of Bilbo’s eyes and it had taken a long a moment for the hobbit to focus on the letters and make them form words.

_You were knocked out by a orc. Bofur found you. You’re now in the healing tents._

Bilbo met Gandalf’s eyes and tried to think past the panic that the utter silence was causing him. “Why can’t I hear you?”

Gandalf wrote more, avoiding Bilbo’s eyes. _Your ears have been badly damaged. Do you remember injuring them?_

“Smaug roared right next to me and I had a hard time hearing but…” He swallowed and even that didn’t make his ears respond.

“It is as I feared.” Gandalf said, and Bilbo managed to read the lips that time. His panic flared again.

“What-” Bofur grasped Bilbo’s hand and the hobbit realized what the wizard wasn’t saying.

That was the moment Bilbo discovered he was deaf. In the twelve days since he’d woken up without hearing, Bilbo had been healing. The orc had left a lovely parting gift of four broken ribs and a collapsed lung, which hurt every single time he breathed. Thankfully, he was sharing a tent with Bombur (a stab wound in the chest that would heal) and Nori (a broken clavicle and arm that Bilbo did not envy), which meant he got to see them, Bofur, Bifur, Dori, and Ori frequently. Balin, Dwalin, and Glóin were with Óin in the royal tent, where Fíli and Kíli were recovering from arrow wounds. Thorin was also injured, and no one had been sure he would live for the longest of time. He was finally looking better, which meant the atmosphere in the tents had improved radically. Gandalf, after helping Bilbo as much as he could, spent most of his time with the dwarf, and he had the attention of every dwarf healer (Óin led the charge) and a fair few elves.

Bilbo had a feeling it was a good thing the dwarf king was unconscious or he would have had a royal fit at that. Especially since _Thranduil_ was leading the healing. It was almost enough to make Bilbo grin.

He was sitting now at the front of Erebor’s ruined gate, watching the gathering clouds. It was raining on the mountain again and the nights were growing colder. Winter would be upon them soon. They had to get Erebor inhabitable before then. It’d be a while yet before he could return to the Shire.

If he could.

The road back to the Shire was perilous when you were well functioning. A deaf hobbit would be obliterated. No dwarf could be spared to escort him back, and Gandalf was already needed back in Mirkwood at whatever dark place he’d been. He wouldn’t be able to take Bilbo for a while yet. And under it all, Bilbo wasn’t even sure he _wanted_ to return. He missed his books and his arm chairs and the sheer comfort of his hobbit hole, but Bilbo Baggins was not a simpleton. He knew he wouldn’t fit in the Shire again. It wouldn’t even be a month before the other hobbits began to call him names. When they found out he was deaf, they’d never stop talking about him. They’d think him incapable of hearing and understanding, and Bilbo would not do well under the constant pity or disgust.

But he couldn’t stay in Erebor either. Thorin had banished him. The only reason he was even allowed in the city was because Thorin was still unconscious and he had friends among the dwarves.

So he was left with very few options. Laketown would be too close to Erebor, and Bilbo still  wasn’t fond of the way Bard had threatened the dwarves lives to get the gold he felt due him. He could move to Mirkwood, but he wasn’t sure what his reception would be under the elf king. He’d left Thorin and his people to die after a dragon attack, would he have any more mercy on a single hobbit?

Rivendell was a possibility, but he would still have to wait for Gandalf to take him over the Misty Mountains. That left him with waiting in Erebor again.

It was exhausting.

Bilbo wrapped his blanket tighter around his shoulders and closed his eyes. He ached.

He vaguely felt someone moving towards him, he could feel the vibration of the heavy boots in the stone he was sitting on. A moment passed and then the dwarf, Bifur, was sitting next to him. He passed him a bowl of soup and Bilbo smiled softly in thanks.

He made a strange motion with his left hand and then pointed at the soup. Bilbo furrowed his brow in confusion and looked at the vegetable heavy soup.

“What?” Bifur made the sign again and pointed at the soup more sharply. “Soup?” Bilbo asked in confusion. Bifur nodded and started moving his mouth in what was probably khuzdul before making the sign again. Bilbo was still confused. Bifur sighed and took his left hand from the bowl of soup. He made Bilbo’s hand form the motion and pointed at the bowl again.

“Soup.” Bilbo repeated, still not getting it. Bifur nodded his head and made Bilbo do the motion again. It finally clicked.

“Oh!” He exclaimed, unsure of how loud he was being. “That means soup? Thank you.” He repeated the motion by himself. Bifur beamed and said more khuzdul that Bilbo couldn’t read and stood up. He smacked Bilbo on the back in what he believed to be a companionable way, but always left the hobbit sore, and wandered back towards the tent. He watched the dwarves slightly zigzagging walk and only realized that another dwarf was coming towards him when Bifur went back in the tent. Balin’s shoulders were squared and he looked extremely determined. Bilbo felt his own shoulders tense up. He had an extremely irrational fear that he was about to be kicked off of Erebor’s property. He had hoped Thorin would be too busy with duties to boot him out so soon after he woke up.

Well, Bilbo Baggins was not a coward. He would not hide from his King (and it hurt that he still considered Thorin his king when the dwarf had all but ordered his execution.) Bilbo set his soup down, ignoring his growling stomach, and stood up. He dusted off his short breeches and straightened his shirt. He’d lost his vest ages ago. He was wearing a coat that Bofur had loaned him, and Ori had knit him a scarf. It was all he currently had. Eru only knew where his pack had gotten to.

“Bilbo,” Balin said slowly. He held out a hand to help the hobbit down from his stone perch and studied him under stern eyes. Bilbo didn’t flinch. Laketown wouldn’t be too bad to spend a few nights in. Maybe he could talk to Thranduil and find a caravan of elves going to Rivendell…

“Come with me, please? Thorin want’s to speak with you.” Bilbo nodded his head, grateful for the careful way Balin moved his mouth. He didn’t over exaggerate the words like some people did but he didn’t speak too quickly.

“As his majesty wishes.” Bilbo dropped his gaze and let Balin take his arm. The loss of hearing made it oddly harder to keep his balance when he didn’t watch where he was going. His equilibrium got tipped far easier.

The royal tent where Fíli, Kíli, and Thorin resided was quite splendid. It was a deep red and had gold runes decorating it’s borders. There were flags perched atop it and guards posted at all corners. Dwalin stood at the entrance, despite his bound chest and the arm he had in a sling. Bilbo still had no doubt he could do severe harm to anyone who tried to harm the King or Princelings.

Inside the tent it was deliciously warm and soft. Warg pelts littered the floor and beds-real beds not the cots that Bilbo and his tent mates were making do with-lined the far wall. There was a desk and a rack of weapons as well. Thorin was the only one in the room, and he was wrapped up in the fur that the white warg Azog had rode. If he wasn’t marching to confront his exile, Bilbo would have grinned at the statement that made. They’d already stuck Azog’s head on a spear in front of Erebor, marking their victory for all to see. Before the journey Bilbo would have found that rather barbaric. Now he found it rather fitting.

Bilbo kept his eyes on the floor and went to just inside the tent before dropping to his knees. He stayed there for a moment before realizing that this was not going to work. He had no idea what was going on with his eyes on the floor since he couldn’t hear anything.

Did Thorin know that?

He lifted his eyes hesitantly and looked up just far enough to see that Thorin was frowning. His eyes dropped right back to the floor of their own accord and Bilbo felt sick.

Thorin was alright. The King was actually alive and he hadn’t been lost in this horrible affair. Bilbo hadn’t even realized how badly he needed to see that. Now that he had seen it, he wasn’t sure he could take the yelling that was about to happen. He just hoped it would be quick.

He was grateful he wouldn’t be able to hear the hate and disgust inflicted on the words he was about to have thrown at him.

Balin tugged on his arm and lifted him up with a surprising amount of strength for someone Bilbo had considered an elder. He kept his head firmly down and he was unceremoniously shoved towards the bed. He stumbled violently-the lack of equilibrium coming back full force, and fell face first towards the furry floor. Balin caught his arm, twisted him around so that he was falling sideways, and somehow got hold of Bilbo’s left foot. A very confused moment later and Bilbo was slipping onto Kíli’s bed with no idea how he made it there. Balin had wide eyes and Bilbo’s own eyes were watering from the pain in his chest.

Broken ribs were something Bilbo would quite happily never suffer through again.

His hand had found it’s way to his chest and he was trying to suck in air only to feel more tears sting his eyes. He struggled to inhale enough air and only then remembered he was still in Thorin’s presence and the dwarf was probably waiting to dismiss him. Bilbo, with what little dignity he still had after his ridiculous stumble, slid off the bed, back to his knees and blinked his tears away. He gritted his teeth against the pain and looked up from his reverent position.

Thorin looked utterly shocked.  His eyes (which had dark bags under them that Bilbo really disliked) were wide and his mouth was gaped open.

Bilbo blinked and tried to remember what Bofur had told him would be the proper way to go about this. He came up blank and decided that he’d just wing it because there wasn’t really anything else to do. “I present myself to you, King Thorin, and beg your leave to finish healing before I am banished.”

He had no idea how it sounded-or if the words had even actually come out. He had a thick lump in his throat and it was extremely disconcerting to talk without hearing. There was no tracking what he’d said and hadn’t said because he could think faster than he could talk.

Thorin’s face did a complicated expression, halfway between annoyance and sorrow, and it looked painful. He quickly righted himself and all emotion slipped from his face, save for his eyes which still shone with the same deep thoughts and feelings they always did.

Bilbo had never really been able to read those eyes.

He squared his shoulders and sat straighter. It was a bit easier to breathe now though his chest was still singing. He had no idea where Balin was and that was a little unnerving.

And Thorin still wouldn’t speak.

He had both his hands on top of the white warg fur, and the long sleeved blue tunic he wore reached almost to his fingertips. Bilbo could still see a slight trembling in the left hand. He could see the slightest hint of a bandage against his neck, but it was covered by the rest of his tunic. Bilbo wasn’t certain how the King had been injured,only that it had been on his right side.

His dark hair was  pulled back in a very complicated braid that was made up of dozens of smaller braids. He still had the two braids he’d worn through the entire journey free from the larger braid. He had a circlet of thin, silvery-white, metal on his head as a placeholder for what would be a much larger crown once they had the official coronation.

He looked every inch the king Bilbo had always known him to be.

“Bilbo,” he finally said, and Bilbo’s heart flipped in his chest. He’d never really watched Thorin say his name before, but it was oddly satisfying to see him say ‘Bilbo’ instead of ‘Burglar.’ “Melekûnel.” That word he recognized only because Bifur was always calling him ‘Melekûn’ which apparently meant hobbit. So Melekûnel had to be a variation of hobbit, right?

Bilbo hoped he read that right.

“Melekûnel,” Thorin repeated. He reached his left hand out, and the digits did indeed tremble. Bilbo purposefully kept his eyes on Thorin’s face and not the hand. He didn’t want to miss anything the dwarf might say. “I have thought that I would die before I saw your face again.”

Bilbo tried to hold still but it was tricky. He knew he was tipping slightly and tried to right himself. A hand settled on his shoulder and helped to straighten him. It was too thin to be Balin’s, but too small for Gandalf. Another hand settled on his other shoulder and Bilbo felt safer, regardless of who the dwarves were. He still had friends.

“I have treated you ill, Master Baggins, and would not have you continue thinking what I said to be truth. I would take back my words at the gate.” He swallowed and Bilbo’s head felt oddly like it was full of static. He simply had to be misreading Thorin.

“I would name you friend, and a member of the King’s council. Great has been your service to me and my kin. Even when I could not see it, you acted in the interest of my people.” He bowed his head slightly and Bilbo almost lost sight of his lips.

“Will you accept my apology, Melekûnel?”

“I have gladly shared in your perils, Thorin King Under the Mountain, and I accept your pardon with a happy heart.” He inhaled sharply and grit his teeth against the flare of pain the action sent up his chest. His eyes were threatening to tear up again but he couldn’t have that. He had to see.

“Then be free, Bilbo dwarf-friend. You are forever welcome in the halls of Erebor, and any kingdom where one of the line of Durin sits on the throne.”

For a moment, the hands on his shoulders were the only thing that kept him upright. He wanted to fall prostrate on the ground and cry in joy. Thorin didn’t hate him-had actually _apologized_ and now he didn’t have to leave.

It might just be until Gandalf could take him away, but for at least a while, he had a place to live.

Tears rolled down Bilbo’s cheek and he knew his face was probably doing something utterly ridiculous, but he didn’t care. His body shook and a sob tore from his throat.The hands on his shoulders loosened and Bilbo was pitching forward. He gripped the blanket of fur in his fists and cried his gratitude at his King’s side. A calloused hand pet at his hair and Bilbo let himself feel relief for the first time since he’d woken up in his silent world.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Thorin was not in a good mood.

Not that Thorin was often in a good mood. He’d rarely had a chance for a good mood in his life. Not since Erebor. He spent most of his time trying to provide for the people he brought to Ered Luin. In the last year he’d hardly even smiled, what with the utterly ridiculous time he and his Company had had in trying to reclaim their mountain. He’d expected the dragon, and probably a little of trouble with the elves. The constant orc attacks, the goblins, the trolls, and the spiders, had been a bit much, but the bloody battle had just been the end of it all.

That had put him in a bad mood. He’d then woken up to the sight of _Thranduil_ mumbling some accursed elvish over his unconscious form and that had turned his mood from bad to black. The aching numbness in his right side had turned the mood still darker, and made every other dwarf scurry away from him.

The knowledge that all twelve of his brave dwarves, and Bilbo, were still alive had helped to improve the mood. The sight of the white warg fur covering his body had nearly even made him smile.

Then Bilbo had come into his tent looking like a condemned hobbit and Thorin had felt his dark mood returning. The hobbit had dropped to his knees, ignored Thorin’s (polite) orders to stand, and Balin had glared at him for telling the hobbit to stand.

Thorin had no idea why Balin would want Bilbo to kneel. Thorin was not technically his king, and Thorin had certainly not earned the hobbit’s fealty.

Balin, his mentor, had then (confusingly) helped Bilbo to his feet and gave him a very gentle push forward only for the hobbit to nearly go flying through the tent wall in the most dramatic stumble Thorin had ever seen. Balin managed to save the hobbit from doing terrible injury to himself and deposited him on Kíli’s vacant bed. Bilbo had squeaked in surprise before his hand flew to his chest and his face contorted in pain.

Thorin knew the stance far too well, and he recognized the barely visible bandages as well. The hobbit had broken ribs. It made his chest tighten even more and something akin to guilt welled up in his stomach.

Thorin hated feeling guilty it was inconvenient for normal dwarves, but it was unacceptable for someone of Thorin’s standing. Guilt meant you did something wrong, and Thorin could never afford to be wrong. He was a leader, and that meant that peoples well being-their very lives-were in his hand. He could never be wrong.

And he kept being so wrong about Bilbo.

He needed to make amends to this hobbit. He needed to right his wrongs.

Bilbo finally looked up, his eyes wide and spared a brief glance at Thorin before he was sliding off the bed and back onto his knees.

“Stand up, please Bilbo. There is no need for you to kneel.”

Bilbo panted for a moment and then he met Thorin’s eyes, his own eyes red and his hands balled in tiny fist to fight the pain he was probably feeling. Thorin had been so wrong to ever label this creature as weak. Even now, clearly suffering from a shortness of breath he would not stand.

“I present myself to you, King Thorin, and beg your leave to finish healing before I am banished.”

Thorin’s heart squeezed painfully and his breath came out in hoarse gasp. Bilbo stared at him with eyes that seemed to always be changing between blue and green.He realized the pain was showing on his face and he quickly smoothed it out. Bilbo sat up straighter and he looked as if he was breathing better. The green scarf he wore was clearly of Ori’s work, and had runes stitched along the bottom that were blessings of friendship. He was wearing one of Bofur’s coats, and gloves that belonged to Glóin.

He was clothed in the friendship of Thorin’s company. How had ever thought to banish him? Thorin’s people loved him, that should have been enough to trust him. More than that though, Thorin knew Bilbo. He understood the heart of the hobbit to be noble, and loyal as any dwarf.

“Bilbo,” he started, but it wasn’t a good enough term. Burglar was too dispassionate. He needed something better for this warrior hobbit. He would knight him, and the rest of the company, as soon as he retrieved Orcrist from the pointy-eared, tree-hugging, jewel-loving, elf. That would be the start of repaying the large debt he owed the remarkable child of the west.

“Melekûnel.” He tried instead. Hobbit of hobbits. It was better than ‘Burglar’ at least. “Melekûnel,” he repeated and sucked in a breath. He learned through their journey that his hobbit valued blunt honesty over heavy handed words, so he decided that blunt is what he would be. “I have thought that I would die before I saw your face again.”

And hadn’t that been a terrible thought? That he could die without making amends with Bilbo Baggins. That he might leave the world having the gentle hobbit think he hated him.

Bilbo tilted to the side slightly and his eyes widened he overcompensated with a lean to the right and nearly fell over. Fíli and Kíli, who had been standing at the tents entrance in quiet respect surged forward and helped right the hobbit who seemed utterly incapable of balancing himself. They both placed a hand on his shoulder and held him still and upright. Thorin overlooked the utter oddness of the situation and pressed on. He was going to finish this apology even if Mahal himself attempted to stop him.

“I have treated you ill, Master Baggins, and would not have you continue thinking what I said to be truth. I would take back my words at the gate.” He swallowed and Bilbo’s eyes seemed to grow even wider. “I would name you friend, and a member of the King’s council. Great has been your service to me and my kin. Even when I could not see it, you acted in the interest of my people.” He bowed his head slightly in shame before continuing. “Will you accept my apology, Melekûnel?”

“I have gladly shared in your perils, Thorin King Under the Mountain, and I accept your pardon with a happy heart.” Bilbo inhaled sharply and Thorin watched his jaw flex in an attempt to hold back any noise of pain. The hobbit was strong.

And he forgave Thorin freely.

“Then be free, Bilbo dwarf-friend. You are forever welcome in the halls of Erebor, and any kingdom where one of the line of Durin sits on the throne.”

For a moment, Bilbo looked utterly lost. Then his face scrunched up and tears started to roll freely down his face. He let out a loud sob and his entire body shook from the force of the tears now falling down his face. Fíli and Kíli both gaped down at him and Thorin feared he was probably doing the same. The hobbit pitched forward and fisted the fur in his hands before he continued to cry. His shoulders shook and Thorin was out of ideas. He reached his left hand out (which still trembled, Mahal curse it) and settled it against Bilbo’s head. He stroked the soft curls and looked up to see his nephews were still gaping. Balin was standing at the tent entrance with a furious frown and was glaring at Thorin.

Thorin wasn’t sure what he’d just done.

“You could have handled that a bit nicer!” He insisted. Thorin looked to his nephews but they offered no aid. They looked just as confused as he was.

His hand kept stroking Bilbo’s head.

“What is amiss?” He demanded as forcibly as he could. His voice was still horribly gruff from disuse.

“You know he can’t hear! He probably thought he was being brought to you to be exiled and you just spoke at him. You could have-” Balin cut himself off abruptly and Thorin was extremely grateful because he’d stopped listening several words ago.

What, Mahal’s hammer, did he mean ‘he can’t hear?’

Fíli and Kíli inquired what he meant before Thorin could. He dropped his eyes to the still prone Hobbit and kept stroking the curls.

“Bilbo woke up from the battle completely deaf.” Balin said softly. He strode further into the room and crossed his shoulders over his chest. Thorin let his face go blank, the same emotionless and thoughtless façade he used whenever he didn’t want others to know what he was thinking.

At the moment, he wasn’t thinking much of anything.

“Gandalf believes it was from being trapped in a niche while Smaug roared. The volume would have been intensified there and, well, hobbits have sensitive ears. He was probably deaf by the time the battle started. I thought Óin had told you...”

And Óin had probably thought Balin told him. Curse it all.

“Why did he not tell us?” Fíli demanded. Thorin’s heart seemed to have trouble pumping in his chest. The guilt he felt when he first saw Bilbo had increased by tenfold.

This was his fault. _He had cost Bilbo his hearing_. “Because I banished him before he could.”

“Uncle,” Kíli started but Thorin would not hear it.

“No, nephew. The blame is mine, and mine alone.”

“You would take all of Smaug’s evil on your own shoulders?” Balin asked, his tone far less harsh than it had initially been.

“I will take that which belongs to me. I ordered the hobbit inside, and did not allow him a chance to confess his injuries.” Thorin steeled his face and dropped his gaze to Bilbo. The hobbit’s cries were no longer as harsh and his shoulders weren’t shaking quite so much.

He tapped Bilbo on the head, unsure of what he wanted to say to him, only knowing that he needed to say something. The hobbit drew back a slight bit, his face blotchy and his eyes horribly red. It hurt Thorin’s chest just to look at him, despite the large quantity of poppy that Óin had poured down his throat.

And Thorin knew what to do.

“Your dagger, Fíli.” He said without moving his gaze from the Hobbit. Bilbo’s brow furrowed in confusion and Thorin allowed himself a small smile in hope of comforting the hobbit.

Fíli handed the knife over without a word. Thorin moved his hand from Bilbo’s shoulder to grasp the knife and placed it on his lap. He took his right braid and considered it for a moment. This would not be easy to do with one hand, but he couldn’t have aid or it wouldn’t meant the same…

This would look ridiculous.

Thorin sighed, steeled his shoulders, and stuffed the braid in his mouth to hold it still. He took up the knife, ignored his gaping nephews and the confounded hobbit, and brought the blade to the side of his head. He exhaled through his nose and jerked the knife away in one long, smooth stroke. He opened his mouth, and his braid fell down.

He’d managed not to cut himself or lose any additional hair. He was mildly impressed with himself.

Thorin set the knife to the side where it could not do any unintentional damage, and he took Bilbo’s hand in his own and tugged it to his lap. Fíli mumbled something in Kíli’s ear and Balin stepped closer to the bed with an approving look on his face. Bilbo looked slightly desperate so Thorin decided to explain what he was doing while he wound the braid around the hobbit’s slim wrist.

He’d lost weight on this journey. Thorin would see him plump up again before he allowed him to set foot out of Erebor.

“This is my braid, as you can see.” Bilbo nodded his head. “Among dwarves, our hair is our glory and honor. It is believed that allowing another to own a lock of hair gives them power over you. This lock,” he looped it around Bilbo’s wrist again, “is woven in a braid that shows I am of the line of Durin.” He removed the clasp that had held it shut and tightened the braid so it wouldn’t fall. “This bead has my name and rank on it. That I am the heir to Erebor.” He clasped it around both ends of his braid, holding the braid around Bilbo’s wrist. “With this, all dwarves will know that you are owed by the very King of Erebor.”

He looked up from the newly made bracelet and met Bilbo’s eyes. The hobbit was fighting tears and it made it harder for Thorin to keep his own face impassive. “That you are a friend of all dwarf kind, and owed every courtesy available.” He lowered his eyes to the bracelet and laid his hand atop it. “So, if you should ever choose to leave Erebor, the protection of my kin and race will go with you.”

Bilbo made a choking noise, and more tears fell. “It is not enough, Melekûnel. Not enough for all that you have given me.”

He quite abruptly found himself with arm full of tearful hobbit. The halfling had scrambled up and wrapped himself around Thorin in a warm hug. He moved his left arm to embrace him as well, being mindful of the damaged ribs.

“I can stay,” he mumbled into Thorin’s neck, and the dwarf half wondered if the hobbit even knew he was speaking. That was the moment it hit him, and Thorin’s eyes welled with tears.

Because Bilbo Baggins would never hear another sound again. The last noise he had heard was the roar of a dragon, and it was entirely Thorin Oakenshield’s fault.

-[]-[]-[]-

His recovery seemed to take longer than fashioning a suit of chainmail. He’d already been unconscious for two weeks and he still had a tremor in his left arm. It took an additional week for him to even be able to feel his right side. Nobody could answer why he had the tremor, and Thorin tried very hard not to instantly blame it on the elves.

Even if it was clearly the elves fault.

Óin insisted on giving him poultices, stinking salves, and utterly foul tasting potions. He drank, wore, and slathered on everything as ordered, mostly scowl free.It worked slowly, and often painfully, but it improved his situation. He could feel his right arm again so Thorin did not complain about the pain or stench. His right leg was still partially numb, and it caused him to limp, but he could walk.

While he walked around smelling like various plants, he saw to the rebuilding of Erebor. The upper halls were the least damaged, and it was there that the dwarves would live while they worked on reconstructing the damaged ones.

After all, winter was coming and it did not care if the King and his dwarves were still healing. He sent everyone not healing or helping others heal to work on gathering supplies. Bard and the men loyal to him were allowed residence in Erebor for the winter as long as they aided in the rebuilding.

Thranduil, in an obvious (to Thorin) attempt to secure favor, sent incense to aid in clearing the air of the dragon’s stench. Even flowers were better than dragon stench. The Guilds had to be established, the halls cleared, and their people moved from the Blue Mountains.

Dwalin took the lead on arranging watches and getting a guard together to make ready incase more Orcs decided to try their luck against the newly reclaimed kingdom. Bombur was in charge of stocking food and feeding the dwarves. Glóin was in charge of the treasury and Balin was working with contracts.

They stuck Bilbo and Kíli with the elves. The two worked well together (to Thorin’s utter amusement) and Thorin was content to have no dealings with the elves.

At night they gathered in the center between the tents to eat. Glóin and Óin lit a large fire and they discussed the days going ons with each other over whatever inventive meal Bombur had made. They were inevitably loud and messy occasions, typically with at least one song breaking out.

The fire flickered brightly, large and untamed. As ever, it brought memories of a different fire. A fire that had burned hot and wild over stone. When Thorin stared at the fire he could remember the smell of burning flesh and the screams of his people.

When Thorin stared at fire, he remembered desolation.

This fire wasn’t as bright, and far less savage than the fire from a dragon. It was a friendly warmth, a soothing warmth. Nothing at all like the searing heat of dragon fire. Nothing like the pain the other brought with its presence.

It was still a sight full of memory, and one Thorin feared he would never be free from.

It was obvious in the gaze of his kin that he was not alone in the memory. Balin and Óin never sat near to a fire, and Bifur’s vacant expression always slipped into something harsher. Fíli, Kíli, and Ori were the only ones free from the memories of their people burning.

Now even they knew the feel, taste, and smell of dragon fire.

“Bilbo Baggins!” Bofur exclaimed loudly, with a poke to the hobbit’s side. He looked up in mild surprise, his eyes wide. They always seemed to be wide these days. Almost as if he was trying to see everything in an attempt to make up for what he couldn’t hear.

That had yet to stop hurting.

“Yes?” His voice wasn’t as musical as it had once been. It didn’t rise and fall with his joys or sorrows anymore. It remained more neutral.

“You’ve chipped your plate.” The dwarf grinned and his eyes twinkled with the unsquashable joy that he always seems filled with. Bilbo blinked and looked down at his plate. He stared at it for a moment and his lips quirked up. He gave his head a little shake and looked up, meeting the eyes of the other dwarves.

And they were all suddenly laughing. Kíli fell back in his delight, and took Fíli with him. Thorin watched them in amusement, listened to their cackles and bellows of laughter with a slowly forming grin.

Tomorrow he’d have to start the process of moving everyone into the upper chambers of Erebor. He’d have to deal with whiny dwarves who wanted higher spots of honor, and fight to make sure that his Company was given the first choice, and places of honor. He’d have to speak with elves and men, and check on their stores. He would prepare for a coronation, and elect council members.

For tonight, he’d take peace with his family and friends. Tonight they would continue to slowly heal.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Erebor was huge. Bilbo had run through it with the dwarves and nearly died in its halls a multitude of times but he’d had no idea just how large it really was.

There was so much of it, and so much broken or damaged or simply not finished that Bilbo had no idea how Thorin would even decide on what to start with. The king clearly had a plan though (but then, he’d had over a century to think of one) and set about it at once. He had everyone not healing working on clearing out the upper halls for habitat, the humans were sent to work with Bombur on gathering food. Dwalin headed the rebuilding of the guard, and Glóin went to work on piling their monetary resources. A group of dwarves from the Iron Hills were sent to the Blue Mountains which meant they could expect the rest of the dwarves of Erebor in four or five months.

Bilbo had another week of healing, and then he was sent with a mostly recovered Kíli to talk to the elves.

Which, all things considered, should have been fun. The elves meant that he didn’t have to inhale the stench of the dragon or lift endless rocks.

But Thranduil never stopped talking, and he _loved_ sparkly things. He didn’t care what type of gem it was, just so long as it sparkled like the stars. And he wanted lots of them. Kíli ended up having to write down a lot of what he was saying for Bilbo, despite the charms Gandalf had given Bilbo to make lip reading easier. He had to take a chair in the back so he could see the rest of the room and all the people in it, and he was still surprised when someone would sit beside him.

It was horribly isolating, and he didn’t know how to fix it. He was surrounded by people, and Kíli was never more than a few feet away, but he felt so _lonely_. He couldn’t communicate with these people effectively, and they forgot he was with them more often than not. He kept zoning out due to the unending silence, and he felt tears in his eyes more than once.

He refused to ever let them fall.

Bilbo had to use all his manners as a hobbit not to just stand up and walk away. He was frustrated and felt of very little real help. It was impossible to keep his eyes on everyone at all times, and he missed a lot of conversation even when he was paying as much attention as possible.

All he could really do was was watch. That and offer his opinion on the final contracts.  

In the end they made a trade agreement that both parties could be happy with and they’d managed to once again procure Orcrist. Gandalf had apparently said a word or two to the elf king while in Mirkwood.

Which was where Bilbo currently found himself. Holding a heavy sword with an over-excited Kíli bouncing next to him. It made it far harder to read his lips but Bilbo didn’t have to put much effort in. They were saying the same thing they’d been saying for the last hour. “But you’ve _got_ to take it to Thorin!” The dwarf insisted, adding in a wave of his hand. They’d almost made it back to the gates of Erebor. They were still broken but they’d cleared away all the rubble so the rebuilding could actually start. It was an argument they’d been having the entire time they’d been walking back to Erebor.

“It should be you or your brother.” Bilbo repeated again. He adjusted the strap on his shoulder and sighed. Orcrist was ludicrously heavy. “Balin or Dwalin. Someone with honor and rank among dwarves.”

“Which you have.” Kíli turned around and stepped directly in front of Bilbo so he was facing him. He paused momentarily before continuing to walk backwards. He was making sure Bilbo had no excuse not to see what he was saying. The hobbit lamented telling him that he was easiest to lip read because of how he wore his mustache. “You have status as great as Balin, you’re just not royal.” He pointed at the bracelet that sat on his wrist. The braid of Thorin’s. Bilbo could still hardly believe the dwarf had given it to him. He’d started to find himself brushing his fingers over it whenever he was thinking. “You helped free our kingdom. You are perfectly high enough to give him back Orcrist. Not to mention you actually bartered to get it back.” Kíli grinned and looked over his shoulder, causing one of his braids to fall over his shoulder.

Fíli must have gotten to him before the meeting then. They were already starting to come loose in his hair. The dwarf prince had tried to braid a few in Bilbo’s fine hair, but it was still too short. Bilbo hadn’t decided if he would grow his hair out.

He wasn’t sure he was honorable enough to deserve a braid. He’d betrayed his best friends by stealing the one thing they had to have to unite the other dwarves. He’d then taken that _sacred_ gem and given it to the _elves_ and _men._ That was like someone stealing the Party Tree and giving it to the men in Bree to use for firewood.

And Thorin had still let him stay at Erebor.

"So talking to elves is enough to let me have special honors?" Kíli smirked and opened his mouth to make a reply before his face completely dropped. He stopped walking and looked at something over Bilbo's head. His face dropped further, right into a fierce scowl. Bilbo's own smile started to slip.

Not again.

He turned slowly, the dirt crunching silently under his feet. When he was facing the direction Kíli was looking he saw four dwarves coming their way. They didn't speak but their glares were loud enough.

Bilbo turned back to Kíli and trudged on to the gates.

He may have status, but not respect. It had taken an orc fight to earn it from Thorin... He had no idea how to get it from the other dwarves. They knew what he'd accomplished but they considered him a traitor still. Not to be trusted. He was an invalid as well, and an outsider. It'd be a while yet before he was taken seriously.

He wasn’t even certain he deserved to be respected.

The day was chilly, another sign that winter was nearly upon them. There would ordinarily be the sounds of birds arriving in the Shire. The hobbit lasses would be preserving the last of the fruits and the lads would be brewing ale for the winter. They’d start preparing for the yuletide celebration soon.

Bilbo wasn’t sure how dwarves celebrated yule. Not that it really mattered. Bilbo couldn’t dance or sing with-

No. He wouldn’t think about it. There were other, more important, things to think about and do.

Kíli was back at his side, fiddling with his left bracer. His eyes were on the path and his lips were set in a tight line. Ordinarily Bilbo would try to cheer him up-the dwarf didn’t look natural unless he was smiling at least a  little bit-but Bilbo didn’t have the energy for someone else right now. It was hard enough plastering on a smile for the elves and Thorin, he didn’t want to have to when someone had blatantly been talking about him.

Kíli tugged at his strap one more time before his hand shot out to grab Bilbo’s arm. He tugged Bilbo until the hobbit was facing him and then waited until Bilbo finally sighed and met his eyes. The dwarf looked determined and that was never a good sign for Bilbo.

“Take the sword to Thorin, it will mean a lot to him.” And then Kíli was jogging into the city and Bilbo was once again alone with the silence.

-[]-[]-[]-

To be honest, Bilbo had been expecting it since he’d broken down at Thorin’s bedside and started to bawl. He’d been far too busy to actually have the conversation, and he’d made it a point to be surrounded by other dwarves as much as possible.

He forgot to include the fact that the dwarves would notice and conspire to get the two of them together. He wasn’t sure why they felt the need for Thorin and Bilbo to talk to each other, but it was obvious they felt the need.

Because subtle the dwarves were not. They believed that Bilbo needed to speak to Thorin, and by Mahal, they would not leave the hobbit at peace until they had spoken. Bilbo was good at avoiding-he’d gotten the skill down to an art form in his life-but he was no match for twelve very determined dwarves.

They caught him after the sword returning. He’d done it against his better judgment and then he’d let his guard slip.

It was just that Thorin had looked so happy. Thorin never looked happy. Bilbo had traveled with him for months solid. He’d seen him for entire days on end, in every situation under the sun. He’d seen him smile on a handful of occasions. Most of those had been directly because of Erebor or his dwarves. So, managing to put a smile on his face over simply handing him a sword had made Bilbo perk up. Then Ori-the conniving bugger-had brought him a cup of tea and Bilbo had sat down to watch Thorin clean his blade. He’d chosen the spot because he could see where everyone was, which meant no one could surprise him. Then he’d gotten distracted watching Thorin. The dwarf was hunched over the blade and ran a cloth over it in slow even strokes. He almost looked to be murmuring to it as he spread the oil over it to make it sheen.

It felt like he was watching something oddly intimate, and he couldn’t look away.

He hadn’t realized they were alone in the room until Thorin had looked up and smiled at him. Then Bilbo had looked around and realized how very alone they were, and how terribly silent it probably was.

“Melekûnel,“ Thorin said as he straightened. He tilted the blade so it rested more fully on his lap and set his hand on top of it to hold it steady. He kept his eyes on Bilbo, “We seem to be alone.”

“Indeed, my King.”

“Please, Thorin.” Bilbo nodded and turned his head a little to the right. He knew what was coming. Thorin would ask, and Bilbo did owe him an exclamation. He forced his eyes back on the dwarf and waited.

“Will you tell me?” Thorin’s expression remained as impassive as ever. Not a single inch of his face twitched. His body remained perfectly still save for a slight tremble in the fingertips of his left hand.

And that was what did it for Bilbo. Thorin was really giving him a choice. He was free to say no and Thorin would never again ask him anything about his situation. They would continue as friends and rebuild Erebor. Bilbo would still be one of the thirteen who helped him reclaim the kingdom and he’d still hold honor.

But Bilbo didn’t want just that. Thorin had trusted him with his bracelet. Trusted him to see him when he was in a weakened state.

“It was Smaug.” He took a deep breath and set his mug aside. He’d need to concentrate for this part. If he lost focus he’d never be able to tell where he dropped his tale, and it would be so much harder to start it all over again. After this he wouldn’t have to explain again. Not for a long while, at least.

Bilbo took another breath and then he began to talk. He told Thorin all that had happened, the entire story. About hiding from Smaug under the scaffolding in a tiny niche, and how utterly loud the dragon’s roar had been. He told him how he’d had trouble making much of anything out after that. How he’d been unable to understand the elves at all, and had to lip read the men. He explained that the battle had been when everything went quiet, and that he’d feared for his life.

He remembered as he spoke. He could feel the grime and blood under his fingers as he stabbed Sting forward. He could smell the stench of orcs taste the dust in the air. It made him shudder but he pressed on. He finished his tale with waking up to have Gandalf explain what had happened.

He wasn’t aware of the tears on his cheeks until he had to rub his eyes to see. When he looked forward again, Thorin was gone. He blinked in surprise, a dull ache rising in his chest.

A light touch on his shoulder drew his attention away and made him jump. Thorin knelt by his side and kept his eyes firmly on Bilbo. He’d didn’t try to speak, he just held on to Bilbo’s shoulder and the hobbit was grateful for the companionship as his tears fell. They stayed like that for what might have been an hour, or minutes. Bilbo was unsure, but when he finally looked up it was to see Thorin with tears in his own blue eyes.

Bilbo had no idea what to do with that, other than offer the dwarf his hand.Thorin took it without comment and they sat together without needing anymore words.

-[]-[]-[]-

“So, Bilbo,” Dori asked with a large grin and a slight step forward, “do you think it has the makings for a proper garden?”

“A proper garden?” Bilbo spluttered as he slowly turned around. The space was large and smelled of earth and plants and all things a hobbit loved. There were several trees sprouting towards the sky and vines had taken over the entire west wall. Weeds had swarmed the flower beds and some sort of briar had formed a thick barrier around the tables at the far end. Half the plants were dead or dying, and there was a definite hint of decomposition in the air. The glass overhead was foggy and caked with soot, while the glass in the walls was immersed in dirt, dust, and dead plant. There were horribly rusted tools in a pile at the center of the garden, and the water spout had completely broken off the wall and was now laying in what might have been a rose bush at one time.

Bilbo thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

It was a nearly perfect little greenhouse. It just needed the green inside. A garden all his very own. A place he could tend and work and actually help with Erebor. He  could grow vegetables for Bombur, herbs for Óin, maybe even special plants for Ori to make dyes with… There were so many possibilities.

And you didn’t need to hear to work on plants. You needed patience, soil, sun, water, and tenderness. They enjoyed talking as well, but they didn’t need you to listen. It was perfect. Bilbo could will away hours in here. His blood was already starting to thrum with excitement just looking at the mess of plants.

“This is fantastic!” He exclaimed with a little bounce. He hurried over to one of the trellises and felt the vine growing on it.

“It’s a mess.” Thorin said with a wry smile. Balin poked him while Dori followed Bilbo.

“No! I mean, yes, but it has so much potential…” He trailed off and wandered towards the nearest flower bed. “This will be a lovely herb bed for Óin.”

“So you would like to start?”

“Just get me a trowel, Thorin Oakenshield, and I’ll get your garden back.” Bilbo started plucking a few loose weeds while he spoke. “I’ll need everyone to make a list of plants they have regular need of, and of course, any plants that are of particular importance to Dwarves. I can have Bard bring some seeds from Lake Town, and the rest I can shop around for over winter. I’ll have it cleared by spring, and we can start making it shine again.”

He glanced up at the ceiling and paused, a dead flower dangling from his hand. “Though,” he said slowly, “we are going to need a ladder.”

He set the flower down and looked over just in time to see his three dwarves laughing.

He loved gardens.

-[]-[]-[]-

Bifur, as it turned out, loved flowers. By the end of Bilbo’s first morning in the soon to be garden the dwarf had joined him. He brought an odd assortment of freshly made tools (Bilbo recognized the craftsmanship and runes of several of his friends in them.) He then plopped down next to Bilbo with a hand hoe and started to clear out the dead plants.

Bilbo simply showed him where to pile the dead plants and where they were collecting any savable seeds.

It oddly worked, because Bilbo had never been able to understand what the dwarf was saying, so he didn’t notice the loss now. They communicated without words, and it worked perfectly fine. They worked quietly for a while before Bifur started to show him signs for certain tools. By midday, Bilbo knew how to ask for a shovel, rake, hoe, and fork as well as soup. He could also say hello, thank you, pass me, help, and goodbye. He felt quite proud of himself.

Bifur was a quiet companion and didn’t feel the need to talk, for which Bilbo was grateful. The silence was heavy around him, and occasionally he just wanted the companionship of another without knowing that he couldn’t hear them.

The loneliness was often stifling. When he was surrounded by others he still felt alone. He could mostly keep up with the conversations going on around him, but he wasn’t necessarily part of them. It took too long to read what they were saying to respond half the time, and the other half of the time he either shouted in reply, or whispered too quietly for anyone to hear what he’d even been trying to say.

It was horribly isolating. Bilbo had been isolated enough by being the only hobbit in Erebor. The deafness just gave others an excuse to ignore him.

Bombur and Dori dropped by with lunch and gave them an update on the general going ons of the castle. Dori had a paper full of news from Ori who had been appointed the court’s official scribe. The move to the upper levels had started, and Thorin needed to know if Bilbo wanted his own apartment of if he’d rather share with Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur. (Bombur would eventually be moving to a house above theirs when his family arrived from the Blue Mountains.) Bilbo didn’t have to think about it for more than a minute before agreeing to move in with the dwarves.

He would have his own bedroom, and he didn’t particularly relish the idea of living alone again. Besides, the three dwarves were in the same boat as Bilbo. None of them had an ounce of royal blood but they were given high status now. They’d have to prove themselves as well, and learn how to properly navigate a court. Bofur would make him laugh, Bombur could trade recipes with him, and Bifur would be able to teach him new signs. It would be a perfectly pleasant living arrangement.

And offer Bilbo the help he would never admit to needing.

By the time they finished their meat pies Dori was fussing with a small bottlebrush that had somehow managed to survive amidst the briars. Bilbo had handed him a trowel without comment while Bombur gathered their dishes together.

Evening brought Bofur, Ori, and Nori, the latter who was looking for Dori who had somehow joined Bilbo’s slowly growing party of gardening dwarves.

They’d fully cleared out one of the flower beds and Bilbo felt absurdly accomplished.

“Looking good.” Ori cheered with a quick look around. Bilbo stood up and stretched his back before sagging in relief when he felt it pop. Dori’s eyes widened marginally and Bilbo realized it had probably been a fairly loud noise. He had spent the entire day bent over though, so there was nothing for it.

“That smells delicious.” He declared before climbing out of the flower bed and settling down beside the other dwarves. He only tripped once and he managed not to completely fall on his face.  Bilbo was learning the secret to balancing. It mainly involved paying a lot of attention to where he was going and trusting only his vision. If he closed his eyes and moved he was over. He had no ability to stand still with his eyes closed either unless he was focusing on his feet.

It was a bit exhausting.

Dori handed him a plate with some sort of goulash (rabbit? Bilbo wasn’t sure) and a cup of mead. He took it gratefully and dug in, watching the dwarves around him grab their own food. Nori started talking to Bofur about the knighting ceremony the following day, while Dori fussed over Ori’s food. Bifur munched on his vegetables contentedly, a vacant expression on his face. Bilbo watched them talk for a few minutes before letting his mind wander. He was too tired to try and focus on what everyone was saying.

That was one interesting thing about being deaf. He could space out at any time. It made reading far easier.

When he finished his mead he looked back around and realized they’d gained Glóin and Óin at some point. Fíli and Kíli were coming in, each toting another round of drinks.

He sat back against the glass with a small smile and pulled his pipe out. For tonight he was simply content to watch his friends drink and be merry in his new garden. He didn’t try to understand what they were saying, or imagine the notes that Bofur played on his flute. He simply reveled in the senses he did have. He tasted the smoke on his tongue, watched his friends laugh, felt the softness of the dirt under his feet, and smelled the ale that Kíli spilt with each laugh.

And it was fun.


	4. Chapter 4

Thorin’s head hurt. Not that it had actually ever stopped hurting. He was fairly certain he’d had this same headache since he’d given Fili and Kili the job of looking after the ponies. It had stuck with him since then, only growing worse.

Now it was making itself grumpily known as was the fact that his ogamut arm was still trembling. He needed to be composed and kingly and appear unshakeable and he couldn’t hold his hand steady over someone’s head while he recited a ten line oath if it bloody well kept shaking.

His dwarves deserved a king that could control his hand. A king that hadn’t led them into a war.

At least he had Orcrist back. Thanks to his nephew and Bilbo. He still couldn’t believe the hobbit had shared what had happened to him.

He hadn’t expected to be trusted.

Balin had helped him don the full royal regalia and he looked quite the part even if he had a limp and an annoying hand. He only wished that the ceremonial armor was still in decent condition. It would have been the best honor he could bestow on his dwarves. Thorin had been knighted by Thrór in full armor. Only the highest nobility were allotted that honor.

It would have been barely enough for his dwarves and hobbit.

As was, he was decked out in jewels, embroidered clothes, furs, leathers, and more layers than he had worn since he was a dwarfling. He had the white warg’s fur turned into a cloak, and he wore it over everything else. He had a new piercing  made from a dragon scale. Orcrist was belted to his side and he had the key to Erebor chained around his neck. He had his grandfather’s crown upon his head and he had to admit. He struck one more of an impressive figure.

Dwalin, Balin, Fili, and Kili had already been knighted, but they were having their vows renewed today.

The throne room had been cleared out, and the throne restored to its previous state.They still had to rebuild a lot of pillars, and all the statues of his ancestors, but they had a mostly functioning throne room.

They would need to put a cushion on the throne. Thorin could hardly feel anything under the layers he was wearing but he could feel how utterly hard the chair was. If he was going to be spending his days sitting on this, he was going to make it manageably comfortable.

Twelve dwarves stood before him, all in as fine of clothes as they had, and one Hobbit. Bilbo was wearing clothes that he had clearly borrowed from Ori, and he looked terribly uncertain.

Balin came forward first, and Thorin stood up to stand in front of his oldest friend.

“I hereby swear fealty and homage to the Crown of King Thorin of Erebor; to ever be a loyal knight and true, reverent and generous, shield of the weak, obedient to my King, foremost in battle, courteous at all times, dutiful to my King and realm.

I freely set myself upon this course, binding myself to King Thorin and to Erebor as strongly as I am capable of. Thus swear I, Balin Fundinson.”

Thorin held his hand over his mentor’s head and spoke the khuzdul phrase in one go, as clearly as he could. His hand trembled and he grit his teeth to keep the annoyance of his face.

“Thus hear I, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror. I accept your fealty and loyalty now and forevermore. I swear to repay fealty with honor, loyalty with love, and to strive to be worthy of your service.” He raised Orcrist and tapped it on either side of the floor beside Balin’s hands, on both shoulders twice, and once on top of his head. Seven strikes for the seven dwarf lords Mahal first made.

“I hereby name you, now and forevermore, Sir Balin, high knight or Erebor.”

Balin stood up and Thorin wasted no time in embracing the elder dwarf. Balin returned the embrace after a moment, his own arms trembling to match Thorin’s. They had fought long and hard for this moment, and Thorin was not about to let anyone elses idea of propriety stop him from showing each dwarf how much their loyalty, and willingness had meant to him.

How much he cherished each of their friendships.

Dwalin was next and he swore his oaths in Khuzdul, without a single mention of a crown or Erebor. He swore his oath directly to Thorin, and to Thorin alone. Fili and Kili followed, and he restated them as his heirs. Glóin and Oin followed, and Oin managed to hear everything he said by some blessing from Mahal. Dori, Nori and Ori, followed them, Dori nearly bawling the entire time. Bofur wore his hat proudly and Bifur spoke his oath in khuzdul. Bombur finished for the dwarves and only Bilbo was left. Thorin embraced each one of them.

Bilbo stepped forward slowly before kneeling in front of Thorin. He kept his head up for a moment longer than any of the dwarves had before lowering it in reverence. When he spoke his voice was warbly, his cadence and volume rising and falling unsurely.

“We don’t have any kings to swear fealty to in the Shire, and no words worthy of great halls and noble times.”

Thorin wanted to tell him that no words he spoke would be unworthy of _Thorin’s_ hall. “So I will say this. I promise to serve you in anyway I can from this minute on. I promise that I will remain loyal to your reign, and to your kin. I will do my best buy you, and offer what help I can give free of expectation. I give my fealty to Erebor and no other. This do I, Bilbo Baggins, swear.”

Thorin knelt a bit and lifted Bilbo’s chin so that the hobbit could see his lips clearly.

“Thus hear I, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror. I accept your pledge now and forevermore. I swear to repay fealty with honor, loyalty with love, and to strive to be worthy of your service.” He repeated the dubbing with Orcrist and then sheathed the sword. He offered his hand to Bilbo and helped the hobbit stand before taking him in a hug. The hobbit went happily and clung tightly. He smelled amazingly of earth and it relaxed Thorin’s heart a little that the hobbit did indeed enjoy the garden. In the reclaiming of his home he had cost the hobbit his own.

He made a silent vow to do all that he could to restore Bilbo’s home to him.

-[]-[]-[]-

Thorin woke up with a racing heart, and no idea why it was racing. His breath was coming in strangled gasps and years of unfortunate reflexes resulted in him having Orcrist unsheathed and held out in front of him before he was even fully sitting upright. A quick examination of his quarters revealed that the fire had burned low, casting strange shadows on his walls. The bed curtains had fallen free from the tie he’d bound them with, and his armor was laying on the chair where he had left it.

Nothing moved. The door to the hall and the door to the restroom were both shut. He carefully lowered Orcrist and leaned back on his elbows..He swallowed a lungful of air and tried to even his breathing. His heart was still pounding and his skin thrummed oddly. His chest was tight and his legs trembled as if he’d been running endlessly without rest.

He couldn’t remember anything of his dreams.

Another lungful of air and Thorin laid back, his hand loosening around Orcrist. The sword was solid under his hand, and aided in the calming of his heart. It was still dark in the room, save for the waning fire light, which made it impossible to tell the time. Some hours had passed, obviously, but outside of that Thorin wasn’t certain.

He didn’t feel terribly like sleeping. His body was thrumming with too much adrenaline and he felt the need to move, to do something other than simply laying.

Thorin swung his legs off the bed and ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back off his face. He held still for a moment before bending down and pulling his boots out from under his bed. There wasn’t much point in trying to go back to sleep when his body was practically humming with repressed energy.

He stood up with a quick stretch and pulled on a tunic and cloak. He fastened Orcrist to his side and trudged to the door.

The hallway was as empty as his room had been, and nearly as dark. There were a few torches lit in the halls and Thorin had to stand still at the sudden rush of memory the flickering light brought back. His hand flew to the wall and he steadied himself against it as he swallowed. His head swam with images and his body felt even more tightly strung.

Forget simply walking. He was going for a jog.

Thorin pushed off the wall and started down the empty hall. He picked up speed as he passed the stones. He moved faster and faster until he was running down the hall. His cloak billowed around him and Orcrist beat at his side. He took in deep lungfuls of air and felt his body start to thrum with the use of energy.

His footfalls echoed in the hallways and corridors and Thorin paid little mind to where he was heading, letting his subconscious take care of direction. The exercise relaxed his body and allowed mind to think, free of the adrenaline that had been coursing so disruptively through him.

He’d felt on edge, like he’d been under threat, and he didn’t know why. His dream was still a complete blank, and the halls were silent. There wasn’t any call for it. The day had been unhurried and non chaotic. The most interesting thing had been that they’d cleared the last of the rubble from the banquet hall and the council hall. Which meant they were only two rooms left before they’d cleared out the entire royal floor.

His dwarves were all doing well. They’d each taken to their new status and positions extremely well. Even Bilbo seemed to be enjoying living with Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur.

Thorin slowed down at that thought. It caused something to tighten in his gut, and he wasn’t sure why. It was a separate emotion from the guilt he felt. A guilt he didn’t think would ever fully go away. He may not have been the one to actually make Bilbo deaf, but he was a direct cause of it. He had robbed the hobbit of a lot in a single, selfish order.

And yet, he had declared that he would not be responsible for the hobbit’s fate. Even now, just thinking the words made Thorin’s gut burn.

Bilbo had been responsible for his fate more than once. The hobbit he had not wanted to take along, and not wanted the responsibility of had done all in his power to save Thorin and his people.

Balin had already started the dwarves of the Iron Hill on writing a song of their adventures. The hobbit deserved one all his own.

Still. The tight, turning feeling was not the heat and pain of guilt, so Thorin wasn’t quite sure what it was or what to do with it. He simply knew he disliked it, and it only ever seemed to dissipate when he was with the hobbit.

Thorin drew to a stop and stretched back. He’d once again lost track of time and he’d run for an entire floor. He was on the level that the-

“Thorin?”

-family Ur and Bilbo lived on. Thorin turned towards the startlingly loud voice of Bilbo and found the hobbit standing beside a statue with wide eyes. His hair was severely mussed, as if he’d been running his hands through it. His breeches were covered in soil and his sleeves had been rolled up past his elbows. He had a few bits of dead leaf in the hair on his feet, and he had a trowel in his left hand.

“Gardening, Melekûnel?” Bilbo nodded his head. “Is it not a little late for such things?”

The corner of Bilbo’s mouth quirked up in what could almost be labeled a grin. “You were running through the halls.” He stepped forward and tightened his grip on the hand trowel. “Was something wrong?”

Thorin shook his head and briefly regarded the end of the hall. “No, Bilbo. I couldn’t sleep.”

Bilbo shrugged and shuffled his feet against the ground. “I couldn’t either.” He took a tiny step back and then another until he was leaning against the wall behind him. “I was working in the garden and decided that reading might be a better solution.” He glanced at Thorin shyly, his bangs falling in front of his face and partially blocking the blue-green eyes. “Would you like company?”

Thorin really hadn’t been in the mood for company, and he was very close to telling the hobbit that he was just going to return to his quarters when he found himself saying quite the opposite. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind sitting for a bit.” He walked across the floor until he was by Bilbo’s side and then he sunk down the wall until he was seated on the floor with his legs stretched out in front of him. Bilbo waited a beat, and then he joined him on the floor.

Thorin pulled a twig out of his hair with a barely suppressed grin. Bilbo took the twig and tossed it over his shoulder. They sat silently for a long moment and said nothing. Bilbo wouldn’t be able to read Thorin’s lips from this angle. It seemed like a gross oversight.

A small, leather bound, notebook was pushed into his hand and Thorin blinked down at it in mild surprise. It took him a long moment to read the words written in neat western.

_Do you mind if we chat on paper?_

Thorin didn’t mind at all. He wrote as much down before following the statement up with a question about how Bilbo’s garden was doing. He hadn’t gotten the chance to drop by it in the last few days.

The garden was apparently coming along quite well as the hobbit started writing as quickly as he could. He lit up as he wrote about herbs and bushes and vines and Thorin found himself being pulled into the excitement as well.

The conversation drifted from the garden to the rebuilding, then to the other dwarves. It flowed easily, and, despite the fact that it was all written down, Thorin found the words came naturally. He didn’t even realize that they’d nearly filled the tiny notebook up until Bilbo yawned. It was a quick huff of air followed by an almost squeak that made Thorin grin. He took the notebook, read the note Bilbo left and, with his smile still firmly in place, wrote a reply and suggested they head to bed.

He found the words harder to write than they should have been. Bilbo read it, nodded his head and yawned again. Thorin pushed himself up and offered a hand to Bilbo. The hobbit took it with a sleepy grin. Thorin helped him up and made sure he had his balance before releasing his hand.

Bilbo kept smiling and Thorin found himself walking with the hobbit to his quarters. He waited until Bilbo was safely inside before turning and returning back to his own chambers. He didn’t realize the strange tension that had woke him up was gone until he was climbing back under his blankets.

It was something to think on.

-[]-[]-[]-

Meeting at night became something of a ritual. Thorin would wake up with a racing heart, his entire body tense and no idea why he was that way. Lying still did nothing to dissipate it so he’d go out for a run.

He always seemed to find Bilbo, no matter where he ran.

After the first week they just agreed to meet at the front of Bilbo’s quarters. They would sit in front of the door and chat until they ran out of paper. It was nice. Something Thorin wouldn’t have thought to do, but a time he started to look forward to. He found himself learning things about the hobbit he had never known, and telling the hobbit things about himself in return.

It was nice.

Thorin was waiting for Bilbo to finish reading and write his reply. He wasn’t sure what had prompted him to write an apology. It had simply been something he couldn’t get off his mind. Each night seemed to drive the guilt further into his chest.

_I am sorry that Smaug was the last sound you heard._

His hand had trembled as he wrote the words.

“Actually,” Bilbo said aloud, breaking the heavy stillness that had seemed to descend since Thorin put pen to paper. His voice was oddly choked, “Smaug was not the last thing I heard.” He blinked slowly and dropped his gaze to the floor, his eyes distant, unseeing. “My hearing was fading away slowly up to the actual battle. The last thing I heard clearly was Bofur. He saw me putting on the ring and he made some joke.” Bilbo ran the tip of his finger along his green scarf. He was never without the gift from Ori. His fingers trailed to the bottom of the clothing and he traced the words. “He laughed and then the battle was beginning.” Bilbo’s eyes shot to Thorin’s quickly, and Thorin could not look away. “That was the last thing I heard. A laugh.” He shrugged and leaned back against the wall, crossing his large feet. “All things considered, I don’t think that’s so bad.”

Thorin was staring at the floor and trying to keep his breathing steady. His heart rate had jumped with Bilbo’s admission, and he didn’t want to give the fact away to his companion.

“Far better than Thranduil anyway.” He finally managed, and the laugh Bilbo gave, however odd it might have sounded, made his heart sing.


	5. Chapter 5

In hindsight, which really was _so much_ clearer than foresight, it had been a kind of terrible idea.

But it had been necessary. It wasn’t really Bilbo’s fault that the king suffered from horrible insomnia (supposedly just tension but Bilbo suspected more than that) and that Bilbo hated how dark and silent everything was at night so that he simply _couldn’t_ sleep in his room.

Bilbo had innocently decided he would wash down the greenhouse walls. They were positively frightful at the moment, and Bilbo had hours to himself before he would feel the need to fall asleep. It was at least another hour before Thorin would be out and about, which meant that he was alone.

The patrolling dwarf guards all knew who he was, and that he frequented the garden at night so they let him be. Nali, as the current dwarf guard was named, didn’t even blink when Bilbo appeared with three buckets of soapy water.

He’d climbed up the ladder that Ori had snagged from the library and got to work on the upper windows. He’d went to work quite merrily, whistling out of habit and to have something to do with his mouth. The years of grime and dirt and Eru only knew what had to be scraped off with a blade before he could get to the glass with a rag and the entire process promised to be a horribly slow process.

He was just starting on the second window when his ladder moved the slightest bit. Bilbo, having been caught up in the methodic scraping of the glass yelped and flung his hands out wildly to grab hold of the ladders sides. He gripped them as tightly as he could and knocked the bucket of water off the top rung. He watched it fall off the ladder, down, and right onto the head of Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain who had simply grabbed hold of the ladder to alert Bilbo to his presence.

Bilbo’s mouth fell open and he scrambled down the ladder as quickly as he could. He hopped off the last rung and came around just in time to see Thorin tip the bucket off his face and onto the floor. Water trickled down the soaked strands of Thorin’s hair and onto his face, where it then trailed to the tip of his sharp nose before dripping onto his beard.

He looked so unamused that Bilbo wanted to laugh, but he could not, under any circumstance, laugh at the dwarf. He really didn’t want the king to huff and stalk away in a puddle of angry royalty. He’d been having these nightly meetings with Thorin for the last three weeks or more, and he very much did not want them to end. They’d become one of the highlights of his day. A time that he could spend alone with his king and friend, with no one else to make them be anything but themselves. He did not want to lose that because he couldn’t hold in a giggle.

“What,” Thorin said slowly, his face twitching, “were you doing?”

Bilbo managed to speak without breaking into giggles which he considered a great victory.

“Attempting to clean.” Bilbo bit his lip to keep from pointing out that as far as Thorin was concerned, he’d technically succeeded. The dwarf was now far cleaner than he’d initially been. Thorin slowly brought a hand up and ran it across his face, his gaze never leaving Bilbo and the unamused expression never wavering. The urge to giggle grew more fierce and Bilbo frantically tried to think of the least funny things he could.

Thorin flicked the water off his hand and pushed his hair back.

Bilbo lost the battle. His mouth popped open and he felt his entire body shake with the expelled air of laughter. Thorin’s right eyebrow rose and for a moment, while Bilbo giggled helplessly, he made no other move.

And then his shoulder shook the slightest bit. Bilbo was mildly worried he was about to blow up in a rant unseen since the Arkenstone incident, but the dwarf surprised him. His lips spread in a grin and his mouth dropped open.

He laughed.

Warm, fluttery things rose up in Bilbo’s stomach and he found himself laughing all the harder. His body felt like it was full of light, as if, should he truly want to, he would need only to wish and he would find himself flying.

Before him, Thorin’s eyes had scrunched up in mirth and his head was tilted back as what must have been great guffaws left his mouth. Bilbo ached to hear it, but he was so happy to see it.

He’d never seen Thorin laugh. He heard him chuckle or give a quick barking sound of amusement, usually with a (wry) smile, but he’d never seen him actually laugh. He’d never seen the dwarf lose himself in the moment of joy and let it take control.

That was what Bilbo had worked for. That was what he had fought for. A place where Thorin would feel relaxed enough to lose himself in something as simple as laughter.

He wanted to reach out and grab hold of Thorin’s shoulder. To embrace him and share in the laughter that was bubbling out of the king’s mouth.

A fierce ache rose up in Bilbo’s chest so quickly that it knocked the air out of him. His giggles cut off and he hunched over, hugging his chest in an attempt to make it appear as if he was just breathless from elation, but he wasn’t sure what the problem was. His stomach dropped and he didn’t know why and it simply hurt.

Looking at Thorin made it worse and more keen and Eru, he wanted to touch him and be sure he was really there but at the same time the idea was so dauntingly scary and _what was wrong with him_?

For the first time since Thorin had invited him to stay at Erebor, Bilbo had a crushing desire to put on the Ring he had found. He could feel it weighing heavy in his pocket, promising to relieve the pain that was nestling in his chest and save him from whatever was happening. The call of the Ring was so insistent that Bilbo’s hand was traveling to his pocket before he even realized it.

A warm, slightly damp, hand gripped his shoulder, and Bilbo’s entire body jerked. His hand flew away from his pocket and he straightened up with a dramatic spasm that made him blush. Thorin blinked at him, his bright eyes dimming a bit as he took Bilbo’s worried state in.

“Come, Melekûnel.” Thorin said after a silent moment. “As you are the reason for my soggy state, it seems only right that you should provide me with a towel.” Thorin left his hand resting on Bilbo’s shoulder until the hobbit turned around, with a smile, and headed towards the exit.

The ache lessened.

Bilbo still wasn’t all that sure of what to make of it, but he didn’t feel like he couldn’t breathe now. He took slow, steady steps and picked his way out of the garden. Thorin came to his side and kept his pace, drawing nearer until their shoulders brushed with each step.

Bilbo couldn’t stop the small grin that lifted his lips.

-[]-[]-[]-

Thinking was something Bilbo had a lot of time for. Not being able to hear anything made it far easier to just cut himself off from the rest of the world. He had no distractions, especially when he was just doing a methodical task that required very little actual brain power. He found himself thinking a lot. He thought about things he missed, like the Shire, and about tasks he had to do for the day. About his friends and what was going on with them.

And he thought about Thorin. His thoughts on the dwarf had changed a little in the last few days, and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it all. He found himself thinking about him far more often, and in more detail. He feverishly tried to recall what he sounded like, every word and noise and chuckle. Thorin’s voice had captured his interest from the first uttered ‘Gandalf.’ He didn’t want to forget what it sounded like.

More than that though, he thought about the actual dwarf. In the last few weeks he’d gotten a deeper look at what made him, him. He’d learned a lot about his companion on the journey-it had been inevitable with the journey being what it was-and he had feared that the deeper friendship he had started to enjoy would come to an end. With his deafness, he’d been certain of it.

Now… Now he didn’t know what to think. He enjoyed spending time with Thorin more than anyone else, but there was a darkness in the dwarf’s eyes that wouldn’t fade away. It seemed to grow more intent with each meeting.

Thinking about him also brought that aching pain back to his chest, and it wouldn’t leave for hours at a time.

Bilbo was putting up the last of the tools in the chest for the night when he noticed the door was open. Bifur had exited not ten minutes earlier, and he never left the door open. The dwarf was extremely good at making sure everything was locked up. Bilbo didn’t like to think about the life he had led to make him so religious in making sure the house was secure.

Right now he was very much alone though, save for the guard that would be roaming the hall.

Bilbo carefully put the trowel down and stood up with as airy a smile as he could manage. He could see more clearly standing, and the door was indeed wide open.

So why hadn’t anyone come in yet? The garden, or what he could see of it, was empty. Though now the shadows seemed to grow longer and Bilbo’s heart started to pound in his chest. He was beginning to wish he hadn’t put the trowel down. It wasn’t much, but it would have worked better than his fist as a weapon.

He couldn’t see anything, and he didn’t smell anything but fresh dirt.

He took a careful step back and his heel collided with the edge of the chest. He grit his teeth against the pain and hoped it hadn’t made too much of a ruckus. He stepped beside the chest and reached behind himself to feel the wall. He carefully knelt down to grab the nearest tool, which turned out to be a fork. He straightened up quickly and glanced around.

He couldn’t see anything from his current location. The door had opened even wider when he wasn’t looking though.

Bilbo’s blood pounded under his skin and his breathing took off. He trembled as adrenaline surged through his body and he frantically tried to think of what to do. Terror was curling low in his gut, making the hair on his feet stand on end.

He felt like he was being watched, like there was someone else in the room. Like someone was breathing down his back, just waiting to pounce on him.

He squatted to the ground and tugged his weapon closer. He’d left Sting in his room and he was violently lamenting the fact. It was a horribly gross oversight and now he was trapped in the garden with some horrible creature with no escape and no hearing and Eru, he was going to die-

Bilbo’s hand slipped into his pocket and his fingers closed around the cool metal of the Ring. He could almost hear it whispering to him, promising him an escape if he would trust it. Even now, the shadows grew darker and the door seemed to open even wider. The air was cold and the walls seemed to close in around him.

Bilbo tugged the ring free of his pocket and slipped it on his finger. The world instantly faded to a strange grey, and seemed to grow whispier around him. The air was cold and stale and he could feel it brushing along his skin. Like long fingers feeling him with mere ghost touches, threatening in their invisibility.

Utterly gripped with fear, Bilbo rushed forward, out the door, and into the hall. He didn’t stop running until he was at the quarters that he shared with Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur. He pushed the door open and rushed inside before slamming it shut and slipping the Ring off his finger.

Bifur was staring at him with wide eyes. Bilbo remained against the door, panting for breath with his heart pounding wildly. A hand brushed his arm and he shot to the right so quickly that he tripped over his feet and fell to the floor. He scrambled on, not bothering to stand, until he was by the chair Bifur was sitting in. Bofur stood in front of the door with his hands held up in surrender. Bilbo scooted back a few more inches until his back hit the wooden leg of Bifur’s chair. He drew his legs in and wrapped his arms around them before burying his head in them. The dark silence surrounded him and he focused on steadying his breathing and heart rate.

The hand on his shoulder didn’t make him jump this time. The lack of bracers let him know it was Bofur, and he could feel the other dwarf moving around on his chair.

Bilbo forced his head up and looked around. Bofur was kneeling at his side with a frown and furrowed brow, but the rest of the room was empty. He looked over his shoulder, and except for Bifur, who was signing quickly, it was also empty. He finally let his body relax a bit and focused on what Bifur was trying to sign to him.

_-What happened?-_

“I-someone tried to break into the garden.” And wow, it sounded a lot sillier in hindsight. He’d reacted in the moment, the gripping fear and the fact that he couldn’t hear if someone was sneaking up on him had made everything so much more real. So much more deadly.

Bofur sat back on his haunches and his frown deepened. “What? Who?”

“I don’t know. I was putting away the tools and saw the door open, but no one was in the room or hall. I could feel them creeping towards me and I ran. The door kept moving as well.” Bofur looked over Bilbo’s head at Bifur.

“Watch him, I’m going to alert Dwalin. He’ll look for an intruder.” Then the dwarf was rising and exiting the chamber. Bilbo watched him go, his heart rate still off and his breathing stuttered. The  fear that had clouded his mind was slowly dissipating.

Something heavy, long, and cold was deposited unceremoniously onto his lap and Bilbo yelped before flinging it off. He looked down to see what it was and immediately scrambled to take the sword back up. Bifur sat on the floor beside him and waited for Bilbo to gather Sting.

 _-Wear it.-_ He signed slowly. Bilbo belted the sword on and exhaled slowly. He already felt safer. He ran his fingertips over the silver on his scabbard. The metal was cool under his hand and solid. Real. He could defend himself now.

Bilbo lifted his head to see Bifur pushing himself up. He went to the table and took his giant boar spear up before marching towards the door in determination. He tugged the door open and Bilbo scrambled to his feet. What was going on? Why was he leaving him?

Bifur stepped back from the open door and made one sign that had Bilbo’s stomach clenching in horror.

_-Fire-_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so everyone knows, this story will go to some dark places. I'm ultimately a fluff writer, so a happy ending will be had, but it will be a hard journey to get there. I'm looking primarily at what the Ring would do to Thorin and Bilbo post BOFA with Thorin's past and madness. I'm taking influence directly from what it did to its (the Ring) wielders, and what Tolkien wrote about the affect the Ring had on dwarves.


	6. Chapter 6

The alarm had blazed through the evening air with the force of thunder. The deep bellowing shook the stone with it’s power and stole the breath of every dwarf that heard and felt it.

Thorin was in the forge with a number of other dwarves working on shaping bricks for their seemingly endless rebuilding efforts. The horn blast had sounded abruptly, and everything in the forge had stopped.

The warning of a fire was echoing through the halls of Erebor again.

Breath left Thorin’s chest quickly and harshly as a thousand different memories flew before his eyes. He could see the halls of his ancestors igniting with yellow light, and hear the screams of his people as they burned under the dragon’s cruelty.

Last time his father had been in charge of the attacks. Thorin had been the first to sound the alarm and had been sent with several squadrons to the gate. This time he was the sole leader. He had to give the orders for evacuation.

He surged for the entryway and hefted three black arrows from their spot by the wall. That was the first thing they had done when the forges had been cleared of Smaug’s damages. They had commissioned endless arrows which they sent all over the kingdoms halls in easy to reach locations.

“That was from the south halls,” Dwalin panted, coming from the hall. He took an arrow from Thorin and the two ran down the familiar halls towards the alarms. They made it up two halls before they were stopped by another group of dwarves and men.

It wasn’t a dragon. The thundering sound of what dwarves and men lived in the stone halls running had sounded too familiar to Thorin and it took him a long moment to make his mind focus. The tiny dwarf, not even of age yet, repeated his message.

Someone had set fire to the greenhouse.

The relief had been quick and consuming, causing Thorin’s long gait to hesitate and the breath he’d only just regained to whoosh right back out. His hand trembled around the black arrows he still clutched and he had a strong urge to sit down.

It was followed immediately-too quickly to even enjoy-by terror. The greenhouse… what hour was it? Would Bilbo have already left for home? The hobbit wouldn’t be able to hear the alarms, and depending on his location, it would be entirely up to the smell of smoke for him to know that the garden was on fire.

He quickened his pace and barked out orders.

The funny thing about fire was that it terrified Thorin, but he never lost his mind when he was near it. He was forever frightened that the sight of it would cause him to freeze, but he always found himself quick to action, regardless of it’s heat, brightness, and crackling. When they fought Smaug he had thought he would hesitate, but when his cloak had caught fire it was as instinctual as swinging a hammer to tear it off and keep running.

It was the thought, more than the thing itself, that frightened Thorin.

He was pleased to find it was the same with a lot of the other dwarves. They were already carrying buckets of water to douse the fire by the time he arrived. Balin was at the front, ordering the dwarves about.

Smoke filled the air and the acrid smell nearly made Thorin choke.

The alarm was still blaring.

“Bilbo was not here.” Balin informed him the minute Thorin was near enough to hear. He relaxed minutely and breathed a little easier. He promptly joined in with carrying the buckets and putting out what was left of the fire. The room would need to be reinforced, and new glass brought in. The few plants that had survived the dragon where surely gone. Bilbo would take the loss hard.

It made his fingers curl more tightly around the bucket handles.

The following rush of people would have been confusing had he not had years of practice putting out fires. They moved around and with each other easily. The men came in with blankets, and the fire was put out.

-[]-[]-[]-

The greenhouse was no longer green. It was thoroughly scorched and the sight of the melted glass and burnt soil made something in Thorin crack. Bilbo was in the far corner, the least damaged side, and was rooting through the plant remains. He touched each leaf and stick with tender care. His love for the plants was obvious, and the sad noise he made at the discovery of each burnt plant made the something inside Thorin fully break.

What made it worse was the obvious signs of arson It was no accident. Someone had deliberately set the garden on fire.

That was unforgivable.

“I don’t know if we actually have a punishment for arson.” Balin muttered, nudging a burnt trowel with his foot. Thorin remembered catching Bilbo by surprise in the middle of the night holding the tiny tool. He would make him a new one tomorrow. His hobbit should not be without his trowel. “I can’t ever remember an occurrence of it. It doesn’t tend to be a problem with dwarves.”

“This,” Thorin said, in a tone he had not had cause to use since the battle, “was not caused by a dwarf. No dwarf would light a fire in Erebor. No. Who ever has done this has lost the right to be called a khuzd.” (dwarf)

“You mean-” Thorin cut Balin off before he could finish. Anger simmered beneath his skin now that the danger had passed, and he could not take his eyes off the ruined trowel. This had not been a random occurrence. This was widely known to be Bilbo’s habitat. The hobbit had gained a lot of respect for his tireless work with the garden. He’d offered ideas and had found ways in which they could improve the amount of food produced. He had helped.

Whoever did this had meant it to be crushing to the hobbit, clearly. They had attacked without thought though. This was something utterly unforgivable.

“This act was not just against our hobbit. It was against all of  Erebor. To dare to burn a part of our kingdom, so recently recovered from a dragon. The ruin of which we are still repairing the fire damage. The muhudhum (honorless) filth will be driven out of the kingdom. Bring him to me without delay when he is found.”

With that order Thorin kicked the ruined trowel away and strode forward. He knelt beside Bilbo and inhaled deeply, glad that the Burglar didn’t smell of smoke. He still smelled of dirt and apples, as he always did. He alerted the hobbit to his presence with a light touch to his back. He jerked only a little before looking at Thorin with a smile.

A smile? How could he possibly smile?

They were sitting in the ruins of the Burglar’s garden-the only real link he had with the Shire- and he smiled?

“Look what I found!” He pushed aside several dead and burned things to reveal a plant that had a purple bloom. A few of it’s leaves were singed but it was still alive. “It’s a Blazing Star!”

“A what?” Thorin had seen the plant frequently-it was indigenous to mountains-but he had no idea what it was.

“A Blazing Star. Technically, it’s a Dotted Blazing Star. They’re impossible to grow in the Shire but they love it here.” Bilbo’s grin broadened and his eyes seemed to turn more green in his delight. “It’s a tough little plant to survive Smaug and a fire.” He side eyed Thorin, and his grin turned slightly mischievous. “Kind of like a dwarf.”

Thorin was so taken aback that he barely managed to respond. He was only grateful that Bilbo wouldn’t know it from his tone. “The tough or little?”

Bilbo laughed, an airy sound if a little loud, and pet the plant. “Well I can hardly call you little.” He laughed again and the sound did something to Thorin. Something warm and altogether uncomfortable curled in his stomach and he abruptly realized he had not moved his hand from Bilbo’s back.

“I meant that it’s only happy in a mountain and will not give up once it’s there. Stubborn the whole lot of you.”

“Thorin,” Dwalin strode forward with a glare that killed the warmth in Thorin’s stomach. He knew that hate. He had seen it directed at others all his life. He would have felt sorry for whoever it was for, but he could still remember the sound of Bilbo crying at his bedside after the war. This was an act of immense hate, and it would not be tolerated. He would not let others drive the hobbit away.

Thorin remained where he was and encouraged Bilbo to keep talking about the plant so that he wouldn’t know Dwalin was there with more news. “What is it, Dwalin?”

“Bilbo was suspicious of an intruder before the attack. He ran off to find Bofur and Bifur.”

“And now I don’t have to figure out how to wash the windows.” Bilbo said cheerfully, completely unaware of what they were talking about, which was Thorin’s intent. He would spare the hobbit what he could.

He shot Bilbo a glare. “Cheeky hobbit. Go on then, tell me what you imagine for new windows.” Bilbo looked up at the roof and started talking again. Thorin gazed at him for a moment before he directed his attention back to Dwalin. “You believe they intended to burn him with the garden?”

“So it would seem.” The words were more growled than spoken. The burly dwarf moved closer to Bilbo and loomed over him protectively. Bilbo noticed his presence and offered him a smile as well.

“Dwalin! Look, a plant survived.” He showed the green and purple thing to Dwalin who smiled appreciatively with the assistance of a glare from Thorin. “Do you think we can have it etched on the new doors? I think it would be appropriate.”

He was taking it extremely well. Someone had just tried to burn him along with his garden. Admittedly, he didn’t know it was deliberate, but he was still taking it very well.

“I want to plant it at the center of the garden. It deserves a place of honor for it’s strong heart.”

Thorin couldn’t help but think that Bilbo deserved a place of honor for _his_ strong heart. He gave Bilbo’s back one last pat (had he really never removed his hand?) and stood up. The hobbit stopped talking abruptly and turned to watch Thorin. His grin dropped and the sparkle in his eyes faded.

Thorin faltered. Why was his hobbit no longer happy? Was it his fault? “I’m sorry, I’ve been keeping you.” He dropped his gaze. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He looked back up and met Thorin’s eyes. Dwalin stepped closer and tapped the hobbit’s shoulder. Bilbo turned to look up at him.

“Would you mind helping the lads over there gathering up the buckets and blankets? Ori and Bofur could use the help.” Bilbo’s smile returned as he looked at the dwarf and accepted the hand he offered.

Thorin’s chest instantly burned red hot. He clenched his fist and took a step back when the sudden urge to strike out came upon him. Bilbo glanced back at him and Thorin managed a tight smile. “I will see you later, Burglar.” He walked back to Balin, wondering at the strange anger bubbling in his chest alongside a keen ache that had nothing to do with his fury at the arsonist.

-[]-[]-[]-

There were more guards out. It was at Thorin’s insistence, of course, but they were still noticeable. He was used to being able to run through the halls free of observation. Bilbo was the only one who knew what he did at the late hour.

He had woken as he always did, with a racing heart and stunted breathing.

But this time,  this time he remembered the dreams end. He hadn’t remembered a dream since the night wakings had begun. He woke up in a cold sweat with a body that felt like he’d been fighting for his life and enough adrenaline to run the kingdom twice over. This time though, he could remember and the remembering brought a new symptom.

Nausea.

He’d flung himself out of his bed and barely grabbed Orcrist before he was fleeing the room. He lost track of where he was and how long he ran. He only needed to escape the horrific images and the terrible call he could still hear echoing inside his head.

He needed to see if the he was still alive as well.

Thorin didn’t stop until he reached the level where Bilbo resided. He needed the comfort of the hobbit’s companionship. The light of his smile and the unwavering warmth of his eyes. The life he just seemed to emit.

Bilbo wasn’t waiting by his usual statue.

Thorin walked up and down the halls twice. He checked behind every statue and went all the way around each pillar. There was no hobbit in sight. He very nearly knocked on the door to his quarters, but he knew the only one whose company he actually wanted would not hear it. The strange energy the dreams always brought seemed distant and no longer accessible. A panic flittered in his gut as he circled around, only to be replaced by a bone deep sorrow. The hobbit had no reason to be out and about. He left his quarters at night to  garden. It was only coincidental that he had ever found Thorin.

He had assumed that… Thorin shook his head and headed back up the halls to his own chamber.

He felt extremely tired suddenly, and oddly dejected. The halls seemed far quieter, and he saw only three guards. He spared a brief thought for how he must have appeared, running down the halls in little more than a tunic and braies. He wore none of his regalia and the only thing royal on him was his earrings, cuffs, and cloak.

He was thankful for the cloak, they were still finishing the final repairs on the furnaces. Smaug’s run through had destroyed one of them. They had most of the halls heated, but Thorin had made sure the royal hall would be the last to be heated. Fili, Kili, and he were the only ones on it.

He returned to his corridor and sent the guard there to his nephews hall. He paused outside his door and stared at the runes engraved on it. They were ancient oaths and declarations of his position and the history or his ancestors.

“Thorin? Are you there?” Years of unfortunate circumstances had Thorin turning around with Orcrist raised and ready. Bilbo didn’t even flinch.

“Melekûnel?” He lowered his blade and Bilbo walked forward with an easy smile.

“I was beginning to think I had missed you. You ran for a long time.” Thorin sheathed Orcrist, his heart beating oddly fast.

“It was my usual path.”

Bilbo’s grin slipped and his eyes faltered. “That’s why you run? It’s not because you can’t sleep… It’s because of why you’re not asleep.” His voice was quiet, making Thorin’s ears strain to hear him. It was obvious the hobbit thought he was fairly loud. The blasted guilt that Thorin tied to be rid of reared its ugly head.

“What makes you say that?”

Bilbo lifted his gaze from Thorin’s mouth to his eyes. “I saw you leave your chambers.” Thorin nodded his head and pushed the door to his chambers open. He motioned for Bilbo to go inside and made for the table and chairs. Bilbo followed him. “Thank you,” he mumbled politely. He sat quietly for a moment before catching Thorin’s eyes. “What did you dream of?”

“I have not slept a single night through since we returned to Erebor.” Thorin said blandly, his eyes flickering to the dying fire. He should add more logs. “Until tonight, I could never remember the dreams that woke me. I would simply wake up. The night you first saw me I woke up feeling as if I were fighting for my life.”

Bilbo didn’t speak, and he didn’t even look to be breathing. Thorin had no idea why he was talking. Bilbo didn’t need to know any of this, and he had no reason to tell him. He simply wanted to. He wanted to tell Bilbo about the dream that was still so vivid in his mind. “It has been the same every night since. Until tonight.”

“What changed?” Bilbo’s eyes were wide, uncertain.

“I remembered the dream. I have always known they were my fears, but I did not know they would be…”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“And yet I am.” Thorin observed. “I do not think the dreams are natural. I think they are the madness returning. And I am helpless against the call in my dreams.” Bilbo’s mouth popped open audibly. It would have made Thorin smile on other nights. He stood up. He couldn’t remain sitting and speak of this.

“My fears come to attack me when I sleep. That is why I run. Of all my fears, madness is greatest.” He could feel Bilbo’s unblinking gaze on him. He hardly knew why he was still speaking, only that Bilbo needed him to speak. It was obvious in the way he was looking at Thorin. “I fear that I will again turn into my grandfather. That I will sit by and cherish stones while my people burn around me. I fear losing myself again.” He leaned his head back against the chair and looked at the shimmering lights on the ceiling. The deep ache of longing and love and pain he used to feel at every thought of Erebor would well up every now and again and steal his breath so he could hardly breathe. He was home, he was in Erebor, but he could scarcely dare to hope it was true some days. He half imagined he would wake up and it would all be a dream. That he had succumbed to a madness all his own in thinking the city reclaimed.

A soft hand in his brought his gaze back to the hobbit. Bilbo’s mouth opened, and for a long moment no sound came out. He pursued his lips, shut his eyes and gave his head a hard shake.

“I would guard you if I could, my King.” Bilbo silent vowed. He nearly quivered with anger. It was something Thorin had never seen before.

“As my dreams are what haunt me, I do not think you can.” Thorin bowed his head and brought his hand up to rub at his temples. Mahal, but he was exhausted. He hadn’t slept a night through in so very long.

“Then I’d have you dream of me, Sire. So I may at least be your companion if the nightmares cannot be defeated.”

Thorin shot his head up to find Bilbo looking at him with glistening eyes. His face had gone oddly lax, but Thorin didn’t think it was a facade, rather that Bilbo had no energy left to make any expression. His own chest was churning with emotions that he did not know what to make of. He tightened his grip on the hobbit's hand and waited till he met his gaze to respond.

“You are brave, Bilbo Baggins. It was a blessing of Mahal that we met you.”


	7. Chapter 7

The garden was going to look beautiful. Bilbo was determined that it would not stand out negatively on the splendor that was Erebor.

Thorin was extremely helpful. He checked the progress daily, despite the demands on his own time. He sent dwarves (mostly the twelve from the company) to assist him, and he was always happy to aid him in anything he was doing.

Bilbo couldn’t help but notice that the circles under his eyes were growing darker. Their nightly rendezvous hadn’t stopped, and Thorin seemed more worn out at each meeting.

It was obvious that the nightmares were worsening.

Because of that, the dark circles, and the weariness in Thorin’s eyes, Bilbo was being chipper. He didn’t know what it was exactly that haunted Thorin’s sleep, but he would see to it that his days were bright.

A picnic seemed a good way to start. Thorin was laughing anyway so it wasn’t a horrible idea. “You attacked Gandalf with a wooden sword?”

Bilbo nodded his head, his grin almost painfully large. “His scarf seemed a deadly foe at the time.”

“That explains why Gandalf was so determined it be you.” Thorin smiled softly and Bilbo’s stomach flipped. He tried very hard to ignore it and the longing pain that came with it. He couldn’t even think about it. Couldn’t want it or wish for it or he would end up with another terrible loss. His hearing would be easy to accept in consideration of what he could never have.

He’d been quiet too long. The silence would be getting heavy. He could feel the strain in the air.

“I-I’m going to get us another bottle.” Bilbo declared abruptly. He stood up and exited the garden, his heart pounding oddly in his chest. His cheeks were flushed and his hands were shaking. So far plan ‘do not let Thorin know you are attracted to him’ was not going too swimmingly.He needed to calm himself and gather his wits.

He fetched another bottle of mead and a few sweet cakes that he knew Thorin liked. He had forgotten them earlier and they would make Thorin smile, which was always a very good thing in Bilbo’s book.

He returned to the garden to find Thorin had moved from where he’d been reclining by the blanket that Bilbo had set the picnic up on. He was now at the center of the garden where Bilbo had planted the sturdy little mountain plant. The king was stooped over it, gently stroking the leafs with a thick finger, his mouth moving as he spoke to the tiny bloom.

Bilbo, quite unable to stop himself, giggled. Thorin abruptly straightened and turned to face him with wide eyes. He paled and took a quick step back, letting go of the plant and trying to stand tall.

“Bilbo, I did not expect you back so quickly.” Thorin clenched his hands together and then let them go and shoved them behind his back uncomfortably. Bilbo continued to stare at the now slightly flushed king and filed every detail, _every hair_ into his memory. He partially wished he could sketch as well as Ori. He’d scribble this down for proof in years to come when he gathered his grandkids, (or, the way his life was going,)  nieces and nephews, together  ‘ _Come on kids, let Uncle Bilbo tell you about the time he flustered the majestic Thorin Oakenshield._ ’

He really couldn’t find anything to say, and that longing in his chest that he’d run away to control just grew all the stronger. He set the items down by the basket and went’ to Thorin with a grin. The dwarf’s eyes darted from the plant to Bilbo a few times before his shoulders dropped.

“And how is our sturdy little plant?” Thorin asked with a sheepish smile. Bilbo moved closer to the plant and looked down at it.

“He’s doing quite well, we even have another bloom coming in.” Thorin’s hand pressed against his back and the dwarf peered over his shoulder to see the plant. Bilbo’s breath hitched and his cheeks instantly heated up.

He straightened up and turned so he could see the dwarf. Thorin would assume it was so he could read his lips. He really just wanted to look at him. His cheeks were still slightly flushed and Bilbo felt it was a good look on him.

“Most impressive. It may have a bit of hobbit in it as well as dwarf.” Thorin’s eyes lit with mirth and Bilbo thought the king never looked more incredible than when he was happy. Thorin moved minutely closer and looked down at Bilbo. He smiled and Bilbo was helpless to stop his answering smile.

Then, he took complete leave of his sense.

In what would probably be the worst decision of Bilbo’s life-and he had agreed to go on a quest across Middle Earth to sneak into a treasure hoard with the intention of stealing from a bloody dragon-Bilbo leaned forward and pressed his lips to Thorin’s.

He barely registered the sensation of Thorin’s soft, somewhat chapped lips against his before his brain kicked in extra loudly and declared that it was really not the best idea to be kissing his king and friend who had no idea that Bilbo kind of thought he was the most beautiful thing in Middle Earth and that the Hobbit really needed to be hauling his oversized feet out of this garden, hell, _this mountain_ , as soon as possible. He pulled back, shocked beyond speech at his daring and utter stupidity, and gaped at Thorin. The dwarf stared back at him with wide eyes and a slightly opened mouth. Bilbo covered his own mouth with a hand.

He was an idiot.

He took a breath in through his nose and opened his mouth to speak, _to apologize_ , when he suddenly found his hand being batted away from his face by Thorin. The dwarf cupped his face and, with one last half wild look, pressed their mouths together again.

Oh.

_Oh._

Bilbo’s eyelids fluttered shut, just like a hobbit-lass, and he was pushed back slightly from the force with which Thorin was kissing him. The dwarf’s lips were gentle but extremely insistent and the hands against his face were trembling slightly. They stood still for an endless moment before it occurred to Bilbo that Thorin was waiting for him to respond. Which he did. Happily. He wrapped his hand around Thorin’s bicep-or as much of Thorin’s bicep as he could.

Yavanna, the dwarf was built.

Thorin had clearly been waiting for the response because Bilbo no sooner had his hand on the dwarf than he found himself being walked backwards to the greenhouse wall. The king slipped an arm around his waist and guided him to where he wanted him. Bilbo brought his other hand to cup the strong jaw he’d admired for rather a long while. For a moment he wasn’t aware of anything but the dirt beneath his feet, the pounding of his heart, the soft hair under his hand, and the way Thorin’s mouth moved with his. He parted Bilbo’s lip to suck his bottom lip between his own and Bilbo very nearly fell.

His back hit the newly repaired glass wall and he gasped, which opened his mouth fully. Thorin did not waste the opportunity, and Bilbo’s entire body shivered when the dwarf slipped his tongue along his lips, teasing at his mouth, barely grazing Bilbo’s own.

This was… This was everything Bilbo had not dared to hope for. It was heady, delightful, powerful, sweet, terrifying, and so many other things that Bilbo couldn’t sort out. He was clinging to Thorin now, and it was as much from nerves as delightful desire.

He also needed to breathe.

Thorin, whether he understood Bilbo’s need, or simply needed the air as well, eased the kiss. He brushed his lips twice more over Bilbo’s and tightened the arm he had around the hobbit’s waist. He leaned their foreheads together and Bilbo opened his eyes. His chest was rapidly rising and falling and Thorin had a wide smile stretching across his face.

Bilbo didn’t want to imagine how silly his own grin probably looked.

Thorin rubbed his forehead against Bilbo’s and the hobbit could feel his chest rumbling lightly with laughter. It made his smile stretch even wider, it was starting to hurt his cheeks. Thorin pulled back the slightest bit, just enough so that his lips were visible. And they were nicely flushed. “I’ve yearned to do that for quite some time now.”

“You have?” Bilbo would have blushed at his utter lack of breath if he hadn’t just been kissed within an inch of his life. As was he swallowed thickly and tightened his hand on Thorin’s arm. “Why didn’t you, then?”

“Because I did not think you were mine to have.”

That made no sense. None whatsoever. “What are you talking about? Whose would I have been?”

Thorin chuckled again and shook his head slightly. It made his forehead brush against Bilbo’s and he nearly lost track of their conversation. He had to focus harder than ever to read Thorin’s lips. “-yourself of course.” He’d missed a bit of that.

“Well ask or act next time, you ridiculous dwarf.”

Thorin pressed three quick kisses against Bilbo’s lips. His hand brushed up Bilbo’s side before settling back on his waist. “I think I shall stick with acting.”

Bilbo stretched up to meet his lips again, and they really didn’t need any more words.

-[]-[]-[]-

They went to dinner that evening with the rest of the company. It had been several hours since Bilbo last saw Thorin, and the dwarf greeted him with a long sweet kiss that made Bilbo’s toes curl into the stone. He then led the hobbit to the seat at his left side, and placed another kiss on his lips before he took his own seat. They received a few knowing grins from Balin, who was the only dwarf there when they arrived. The other dwarves arrived and they started dinner.

Bilbo didn’t bother with attempting to understand the dinner conversation. He felt  oddly tense, as if he was waiting something important to happen. Thorin’s gaze lingered on him and sent a thrill down his spine at each look. Every breath felt full of meaning and it marveled Bilbo that he didn’t burn from how hot his cheeks were.

After the first course Thorin stood up and went to Bilbo’s side. He took Bilbo’s hand and brushed his thumb against his knuckles. He waited a moment until everyone was looking at him and then he knelt at Bilbo’s side.

“Bilbo,” his eyes were bright and the hand that held Bilbo’s tightened his grip. He adjusted his weight on his knee and locked his gaze with Bilbo’s once more. Bilbo wasn’t positive what was happening.

“Bilbo,” he started again, “I, Thorin son of Thrain, declare my interest in you before all others assembled here. I offer this,” He held up his other palm and Bilbo spared it enough of a glance to determine that it was a ring before returning his gaze to Thorin’s lips, determined not to miss anything. “As a sign to all others and a oath of my intentions to court you.” He swallowed thickly, his light blue eyes flickering around Bilbo’s face. “Do you accept?”

Bilbo blinked and tried not to pass out. He felt horribly light headed and stars were starting to appear in front of his vision.

Thorin Oakenshield was on his knee in front of him asking _Bilbo Baggins_ if he would consent to a courtship. The incredible dwarf he’d grown so fond of in the months since he met him wanted to court Bilbo, possibly marry him. He was already halfway in love with the dwarf, and did not imagine it would be hard to fall the rest of the way. It was harder fighting against it than giving in to it. Thorin already made him happy and the idea of actually belonging with the dwarves was a heady one.

To no longer be so utterly alone.

He’d forgotten about the silence when Thorin kissed him earlier. He’d felt more alive and connected to someone else than he had since he’d woken up after the forsaken battle.

There was something else too. He could almost hear a faint calling in the back of his mind. It spoke of what he could do as the Royal Consort. He would never be looked at as not belonging. He would be able to build a garden that no one would dare to burn. None would dare to cross him because he would have power. Power to do whatever he wanted. Even Thorin would be helpless to deny him anything.

It was an odd thought that made him uneasy. It made him pause and try to understand what he was even thinking.

Thorin’s gaze faltered and Bilbo’s heart pounded painfully. The blue eyes turned unsure and started to cloud with sorrow.

Bilbo nodded his head. “Yes.” And then, just to be sure that he had actually said it, he repeated the word twice more. Thorin’s eyes dropped to Bilbo’s hand and he brought the ring to his hand. He extended Bilbo’s index finger on his right hand and slipped the ring on. Bilbo dropped his own gaze and stared at it for the first time.

The band was made of solid silver that morphed into two trees on either side. It met at the center where the branches turned into a cage that held a gem that was almost the color of Thorin’s eyes.

He didn’t really care for wearing jewelry, but he couldn’t stop his chest from puffing up proudly at the chance to wear this ring.

Thorin brushed his finger along the ring for a moment before pressing a kiss to Bilbo’s hand. He looked up and caught Bilbo’s gaze, his eyes seeming to dance with delight. A giddy joy rose up in Bilbo, and he thought he might simply float away if Thorin hadn’t been holding his hand so tightly.

The following celebration had been quick, and from appearances, loud. Fili and Kili jumped up and started to shout what looked like ‘Uncle’ while Bofur slapped him across the back and started making jokes. Balin went to fetch papers that Bilbo apparently needed to sign, and Dwalin gave him a long hard look. Ori hugged him, and gave his green scarf a little tug.

Thorin promptly tugged the hobbit back into an embrace and wrapped his own arms around him. He propped his chin on the hobbit’s shoulder and regarded the other dwarves. Bilbo’s eyes went wide and a blush heated his cheeks. He could feel Thorin saying something to the other dwarves but didn’t know what it was. Bifur laughed and signed at him.

_-Oakenshield claims you.-_

Bilbo almost laughed and gave his head a little shake. That was what the ring was for. It was a little obvious that the dwarf had just declared his intent. Why did Bifur bother telling him that?

Thorin’s grip around his waist tightened. He pressed a warm kiss against the side of Bilbo’s neck and then dragged his tongue up to his ear before giving it a quick nip. He then moved his head to Bilbo’s other side and repeated the gesture. Bilbo stood still, his eyes still painfully wide, and looked at the other dwarves. They were all firmly looking at Thorin. He blinked and just assumed it was a part of dwarvish courtship customs. Hobbit’s were extremely tactile creatures. They held hands, snuggled, embraced, and kissed, but they never did something so.. _.suggestive_ , publicly. There were always children to think of, and properness to remember. Apparently dwarves had no such qualm.

Though the others were still staring wide eyed at him and the king. It left him feeling vaguely uncertain. Thorin said something else and squeezed Bilbo tight before removing his arms from around Bilbo’s chest. The dwarf then turned him around so he was facing him and pressed a hot kiss to his lips. He clutched him tightly and Bilbo swayed on his feet from the force of it.

Yes. Dwarves clearly had different customs.

Thorin broke the kiss after several _long_ moments and stared down at Bilbo with dark eyes. It made Bilbo’s blood shiver. It was easier to forget the other dwarves were there when he couldn’t see them. The way Thorin looked at him helped him to forget everything else as well.

=[]=[]=[]=

The news that Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, was officially courting Bilbo Baggins, Hobbit of the Shire and friend of dwarves _and elves_ , spread extremely quickly.

And Bilbo found himself being watched far more than he had ever been. He’d been observed by curious dwarves before. Dwarves who were curious what the ‘Burglar of Erebor’ looked like. Now they were judging him as the one that their king was courting.

He felt even more isolated.

The nature of his condition was such that he always felt isolated from others. It took concentration to understand what they said, and that was only when they spoke in the common tongue. He didn’t understand anything of khuzdul and it was impossible to read. His companions, the thirteen loyal dwarves he had traveled across Middle Earth with, were always near and ready to talk by notebook if he desired. Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur would sign to him. (He’d learned quite a few words, and was able to talk in decent sentences.)

Now the other dwarves were even more aloof and Bilbo was getting lonely.

And it had only been three days.

Bilbo stared down at the ring on his finger and studied the elegant lines of the tree.  It was delicate work, far better than any hobbit could have made. The tree was modeled after the one that grew above Bag End. The simple consideration of that made Bilbo feel cared for more than anything else had recently.

Thorin… He made Bilbo feel connected. Far more than anyone else did. The way the dwarf would spend hours simply writing back and forth with him about any topic, pointless things that others would deem unworthy of waiting for writing for.

And he kissed brilliantly.

It was more than that though. Just touching Thorin in the most innocent of ways made Bilbo’s heartbeat delightfully fast and his breath falter. He was fast addicted to the wonderful warmth that spread from his toe to the tip of his head every time Thorin was near.

He was going to fall in love with the dwarf. He was already halfway there, and he didn’t see it stopping unless something drastic happened.

And he didn’t really want it to stop. Thorin made him feel happy.

It may have been selfish, but Bilbo was going to take that happiness regardless of how bad an idea it was for him to court Thorin. He was not fit to be a consort. He wasn’t of any royal blood, and he was of a different race. Dwarves were extremely closed off as a race. They were mistrusting and paranoid by nature. Bilbo didn’t have to be brilliant to know that there was going to be an outcry against his position.

A gentle hand trailed along Bilbo’s shoulders, causing him to start and then tremble. His dwarf came into view and settled beside him. The flickering torchlight made his ivory skin seem to glow, and his dark hair fell carelessly around his shoulders. They were free from the restraint of the crown and Bilbo’s fingers itched to comb through it.

“Bilbo,” Thorin said with a barely present pant. He’d been running then. The dreams were still going on. Bilbo wanted more than anything to make the disappear forever. Thorin had been through so much, he didn’t need to be attacked by his fears while he slept.

Bilbo cupped Thorin’s cheek and pressed a kiss to his lips in greeting. He couldn’t fight the nightmares, but he could make the nights more pleasant.


	8. Chapter 8

Thorin had never imagined he would have the opportunity to slip a ring of courtship on anyone’s finger.

He’d never thought it would be Bilbo. He’d found the hobbit attractive from the first look, which had been irritating at the time. He did not think the Hobbit would be good for much on the road, and he was loathe to remove a creature so unsuited for the wild from his home.

Then Bilbo had bought them time with the trolls and Thorin had started to question his initial judgments on the hobbit. The Burglar had adored the elves though, and that had once again put him in Thorin’s  black book. He’d disliked the jealousy that the hobbit had produced in him, and he decided he was better off without any fancies.

Of course Bilbo had just had to save him from the orcs. Still, Thorin guarded his heart jealously and he refused to allow himself anything other than friendship. At the end of their journey he had thought his feelings-whatever they might have become-were gone.

They’d snuck upon him so gradually that he didn’t even realize he’d fallen until it was too late. Bilbo had wished to be his companion in his nightmares, and Thorin was lost.

He’d thought he would simply ignore the emotions and embrace the friendship Bilbo so readily offered him.

Then the hobbit had kissed him and Thorin’s world had gone dangerously off kilter. His stomach had dropped, his heart had stopped, and his breath had left his body in one startled whoosh. The terror in Bilbo’s eyes, and the startling warmth that had spread through his _entire_ body shockingly quick had made him return the hobbit’s kiss.

It had made his heart sing.

Bilbo’s eyes had sparkled more brightly than the stars above Erebor, and Thorin knew he would not be able to ignore the pounding of his heart or the urge to be near this hobbit.

The ring hardly weighed anything. It had been a fun challenge after so many weeks working on simple bricks for reconstruction. The gem matched his eyes, as per tradition. The trees on the band had been inspired by the garden Bilbo so adored. He’d barely had the time to complete it between their initial kiss and the dinner.

He would not wait any longer though. Not when touching and kissing Bilbo had been what would have had to wait.

Balin had guessed his intentions the minute Bilbo entered the room. He’d been utterly unable to stop himself from surging forward and pressing a kiss to the hobbit’s lips. Balin had  tutted in disapproval and Thorin had very nearly ignored him.

The food had been tasteless and he’d simply been unable to wait any longer. He had the required number of witness, with several extra, and he had the ring. He’d slipped out of his chair and went to Bilbo’s side.

The hobbit had turned to look at him, and Thorin had offered a courtship.

For several long, terrible moments, Thorin had been certain he was about to be rebuffed. Then Bilbo had met his eyes and nodded his head. He said yes three times and Thorin’s heart had once again sang.

Now Thorin found himself slipping the ring onto Bilbo’s with his good hand-he would not risk any tremors- and he could hardly think past the fact that he was slipping a courtship ring on the finger of one of the most incredible individuals he had ever met.

And the individual was letting him.

Thorin brushed his finger along the ring for a moment, making sure it was real, and he could not keep himself from pressing a kiss to Bilbo’s hand. The hobbit let a little gasp escape his lips and Thorin lifted his eyes to meet Bilbo’s. He hadn’t dared to hope before, but now it was flooding his veins, and joy more tangent than when he’d kissed his hobbit seized his chest. He clutched Bilbo’s hands and tried not to sway on the spot.

His dwarves waited only for him to smile at Bilbo before they all jumped up. Fíli and Kíli started celebrating the potential addition to the family while Balin slipped away quietly to get the proper papers for Bilbo to sign. Their courtship would be a bit different than most dwarves as Thorin was royal. It would have to be far more public and official. There would be several papers to sign and each step would have to have witnesses.

Bofur clapped Bilbo on the back and Thorin had to grit his teeth. The miner laughed and squeezed Thorin’s hobbit’s shoulder. The joy in his chest started to sour and his hands clenched at his side.

The suddenness of the emotion surprised him.

Ori stepped up to Bilbo and spoke with bright eyes. His braids flapped around his face as he gestured widely and Dwalin watched him with a soft grin. Ori stepped nearer to Bilbo and tugged on the end of the scarf he had knit for Bilbo. The hobbit was rarely without it-he was used to a much warmer climate-and Bilbo chuckled.

Thorin stepped forward and grabbed Bilbo’s shoulders before he even registered the dark churning in his gut. He wrapped his arms around Bilbo protectively and tugged him back into his chest. “Melekûn men! Menu zatazirikh otûmb ul men.” (The hobbit is mine! I claim his touch.) He growled out, hardly recognizing his voice. The jealousy churning in his stomach almost made him sick, and the urge to stake his claim on Bilbo was great.

Bifur signed to his hobbit, and Bilbo shook his head. Did he disagree? Did he challenge Thorin’s claim?

The churning was too much to fight and Thorin decided to stop trying. He dropped his lips to Bilbo’s tempting neck (brushing the scarf aside with his nose) and pressed a kiss there. He could feel Bilbo’s pulse beneath his lips and he was tempted to bite the skin. To leave a mark that he could not be rid of. He decided to try something a bit more demonstrative instead. He trailed his tongue up Bilbo’s neck and nipped his ear. The taste of his skin was as delectable as his lips and Bilbo was tempted to remain there and taste more. He opted for repeating the gesture on the other side of Bilbo’s head.

Bilbo shivered and Thorin wanted.

“You have all bore witness to my claim. Our courtship has started.” He squeezed Bilbo to his chest, a fierce pride swelling in his chest along with the elation, joy, and need to posses. It was too much to contain and had all come on too quickly.

He turned Bilbo around and kissed him, and the fierce jealousy dissipated. He cupped Bilbo’s cheek, the skin soft under his hand, and let his other hand tug Bilbo nearer.

Bilbo stared up at him glassy eyed when he broke it for air, and Thorin was unable to resist another kiss.

Only when he had thoroughly explored Bilbo’s mouth did he break the kiss. His heart pounded in his chest and his fingers trembled with energy. He imagined he could lift the mountain with how powerful and euphoric he currently felt.

Of course, Balin chose that moment to clear his throat and make Thorin realize just how forward he’d been.

=[]=[]=[]=

Thorin had never understood why anyone would meditate. Emotions were not something one sorted through, They were things that were locked away and ignored, or used to strengthen one’s resolve.

Since Thorin had given Bilbo his courtship ring, Thorin was beginning to understand the appeal of mediation. He was certain that the surge of emotions he was feeling was due to his sleep deprived state. He couldn’t even sort out what all he was feeling.

Happiness was foremost.

It was in his blood and each beat of his heart pumped it through his entire body. It was a fluttering feeling that made him feel lighter than the air he breathed. He’d always heard it called ‘falling in love’ but it did not feel like falling at all.

It felt like flying.

He found himself smiling at odd moments, a giddiness overtaking him so much that he actually wanted to laugh. He never allowed it, of course, but it was there none the less.

Fear was also present. Fear that Bilbo did not feel the same. He’d never initiated a courtship before, and he’d never felt so strongly for anyone before. It gave the hobbit a tremendous amount of power over him. It wasn’t terribly strong whenever he was near Bilbo, but it was still a faint whisper in the back of his mind.

And his nightmares just kept getting worse. The madness roared through his head in the darkness, and he was helpless against the call of the gold. When he would wake he could still feel the faint effects and it made him flee his bed. He knew Bilbo awaited him, and the need for the hobbit’s simple, comforting presence was almost all consuming.

Bilbo had started to wait for him outside his quarters. Now Thorin’s feet took him their swiftly and without fail.

He found Bilbo leaning against the wall with his feet stretched out. His hands rested lightly on his knees and he was staring at the opposite wall. It was obvious he wasn’t really seeing it though. He appeared deep in thought.

The simple sight of him made Thorin’s feet slow. He drew to a stop a few feet from Bilbo’s side and watched him with needy eyes. Bilbo breathed softly, his chest the only thing that moved as he sat against the wall. His lips turned down the slightest bit at the corners and Thorin decided to make himself known. He slipped to his Burglar’s side and sank down. He alerted Bilbo to his presence with a touch to the shoulder.

“Bilbo?” The hobbit’s eyes found his own and the lips turned up at the corners. He cupped Thorin’s cheek with his soft hand and it tempted the dwarf to close his eyes so he could better savor the sensation.

Bilbo leaned forward and pressed his lips against Thorin’s in greeting and his eyes did slip closed. He firmed his grip on Bilbo’s shoulder, pulling himself closer to the warm Hobbit.

“Hello, my King.” Bilbo mumbled against his lips. He pulled back and smiled at Thorin before lowering his head and tucking into him. It was startling just how right it felt to Thorin for Bilbo to simply lay his head on his shoulder and snuggle into his side. His fingers wove through Bilbo’s soft curls and he marveled at their silky texture. He was immensely glad he had not taken the time to put anything more than a tunic on. He would not have felt the warmth of Bilbo’s breath against his chest, or the soft weight of him.

It was contentment, utter contentment.

The halls no longer seemed so dark and he could swear that the air felt lighter. Bilbo set the notebook in his lap and scribbled a few words down.

_How went the day?_

Thorin considered the pen for a moment. Bilbo had chosen blue ink for the evening, and the sight of it made him grin. _Well enough. We have received the first Ravens from the Blue Mountain caravan. They are near._

Thorin’s heart pounded a bit harder in his chest. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. Up till now his efforts had been primarily focused on clearing out as much of the ruin as possible. The bottom levels leading to the treasure halls had been the most damaged by far, but the throne room and several forges had been ruined as well. There were countless bridges and walkways that still needed to be rebuilt. They would need to clear more of the rooms before the end, and it would probably take the remaining century and a half of Thorin’s life to see Erebor restored to her former glory.

With all of that he also had to worry about her defenses. Figure out how to feed her large populous and provide for his people. The mines had to be reopened and he had to maintain so many different alliances and-

It was overwhelming.

His attention was constantly being called and his presence perpetually demanded. He was exhausted mentally, and had not time for rest. His people needed him to lead them, and there was no one else to do the job. He had led them through poverty and exile to the Blue Mountains, but there he had simply had to carve a home.

Now he was repairing one that was filled with memory and sorrow.  It had been claimed with loss, and reclaimed with blood from nearly all races.

Thorin was not certain he was strong enough to lead his people. Especially when he dreamt of madness and gold.

“Thorin?” Bilbo’s voice was too loud in the night but it still made something warm curl in his chest. His attention zeroed in on the hobbit in his arms and he once again marveled at the perfect weight of him.

“Yes?” He immediately cursed his oversight and wrote the word on the notebook. He hoped Bilbo had not felt him ask the word. He did not want to remind the halfling of his deaf state. Now familiar guilt churned low in his belly but Thorin did not focus on it. Not when he was holding Bilbo. It had been months since Bilbo had lost his hearing to Smaug’s evil and Thorin’s negligence. Surely this should be easier.

Bilbo didn’t respond by paper, or by voice. Not right away. He turned in Thorin’s arms and peered up at him with a shy smile. He curled his small hand around Thorin’s shoulder and pressed up closer to him. He trailed his fingers along Thorin’s beard, stroking the hair there. His eyes were soft in the flickering light and Thorin found himself without breath. Content simply watching his hobbit. His heart longed for more, but any moment spent with Bilbo was a moment well spent.

He’d learned in the last few days that Bilbo enjoyed this. Exploring Thorin with his hands. His green-blue eyes would go wide as they stroked him and felt the different textures of his skin and hair. He’d brush across a scar and a curiosity would light his face. Occasionally his brow would draw and his lips would dip down if it looked like it had been a particularly dangerous looking scar.

Thorin had a lot of those. His life had been anything but easy.

Bilbo’s fingers, always so much softer than any dwarf’s, trailed over to his lips and stroked them with warm touches that made Thorin’s mouth drop open. Bilbo’s gaze didn’t move and Thorin’s pulse started to race. It was a simple touch but it made his mind cloudy with want. "You are distracted, my King." Bilbo finally said, and Thorin's eye's grew hooded. Hearing Bilbo call him _his_ king did something to the dwarf. "Allow me to regain your attention." He pressed forward and kissed him with abandon. Thorin had learned in the garden that Bilbo was quite adept at the art of kissing, and by Mahal, was he grateful for the hobbit's skill. Bilbo kept  _moving_. He rolled and pressed and broke away and came in again, hard and soft, fast and slow. 

It was a guessing game that Thorin had quickly learned to love to play. 

He gripped Bilbo around his waist and tugged him nearer until the hobbit was fully settled on his lap. His hands automatically went to cup his generous bottom. Hobbits were delightfully more curvy than dwarves. It suited their softness and the brightness of their eyes. They were creatures of light and growth and Thorin felt so grateful that Gandalf had insisted on the need of a specific burglar.

Thorin’s right hand relinquished its hold of the hobbit’s derriere and went to the buttons of his shirt. Thank Mahal the hobbit always wore a buttoned shirt. He didn’t have the dexterity currently to try and navigate complicated buckles or ties.

Bilbo’s hands pushed up his own tunic, a loose blue one with a simple tie, and the hobbit’s fingers dug into his back muscles as Thorin finally undid the last button. He pushed the simply made white fabric back and looked at his hobbit.

During the journey he had seen Bilbo in varying states of undress. It was hard to maintain utter privacy when on a quest like they were, and in the conditions that they had had to travel in. He had found it odd the first time he saw his chest, that there was no hair on it. A closer look later had revealed that he did have hair, but that it was more of a soft fuzz than the fur that coated dwarven chest. He had not studied the hobbit closely, as he had never been meant to look at the time. Bilbo was not shy but he was a stickler for properness.

It had captivated him ever since they had started their courtship.

The hair was soft, like the rest of his body. He’d earned muscles on their trek across Middle Earth and lost a good deal of his stomach fat. He was gaining back enough to have a pleasant plumpness that seemed typical to his race, and it made Thorin glad.

Despite his softness though, he was not yielding. Bilbo had a fiery spirit and was stronger than he ever looked. He was clever and cunning, and though he was small, he was fierce.

He’d pushed the hobbit to the floor without realizing it. His mouth was on the beardless jaw and Bilbo was squirming delightfully under him. His broken moans and the scratching of his fingers against the floor were the only sounds in the quiet hall. Thorin’s hands were possessive as they ran down the soft skin and warm wool. He traced the seam of Bilbo’s breeches before a shudder from the hobbit made him pause. His entire body ached with a deep longing. More than simple arousal, it was a want of everything that was Bilbo.

But Bilbo was special. Thorin would not take Bilbo in the hall like some common swain. The hobbit was to be pursued and treated like the precious jewel he was.

Thorin pushed himself up on his left arm, hardly aware of it’s tremble, and looked down at Bilbo. The Burglar’s eyes were wide and dark and his mouth was open, silently sucking in air as he looked at the dwarf. “Thorin,” he whispered over and over again. A quiet chant he probably didn’t even know he was saying.

Thorin had never wanted someone as much as he wanted Bilbo. This hobbit, and no other, he would have. This hobbit who had managed to capture his attention and his heart.


	9. Chapter 9

Ever since Bilbo had met the dwarves breakfast was always a hurried affair. The first morning he had skipped it in an attempt to catch his leaving adventure, and on the remaining mornings of the quest it was just something that they took while they packed up camp.

At Erebor it was a meal he shared with Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur. On occasion they would be joined by another dwarf-most commonly Nori, though Ori and Glóin appeared as well. This morning it was just the three of them and Bilbo was eager to start the day. They had received another Raven from the caravan of dwarves coming from the Blue Mountains. They were due to arrive by evening and Bilbo was excited to meet the famous Dís.

And flat out terrified at the same time. She was the final person who could have any say on Thorin and his relationship. If she gave him a favorable review then they could proceed to the next stage.

He’d get to meet Bombur’s wife and many children, as well as Gimli and Glóin’s wife. They were the only married members of the company (currently) but everyone had someone they were eager to greet.

Bilbo was going to spend the morning in the garden. He would be out of the way and wouldn’t have to stress about the upcoming meetings. The breakfast was fairly tasteless and he felt oddly like he was intruding. Bombur wasn’t able to eat anything (which had made Bilbo and Bofur terrified that he was ill.) and Bofur and Bifur were distracted.

It wasn’t his family, no matter how much he wanted to pretend otherwise.

He took up his cloak, one Thorin had given him and wrapped it around his shoulders. He bid Bifur adu and slipped out of the quarters. He glanced to the left to see if anyone was coming as he turned to the right.

And walked right into Thorin’s impressively built chest. He hacked in surprise and Thorin wrapped him up before he could stumble or fall. Bilbo was grateful for his quick reflexes as his balance was precarious at the best of times.

“Thorin!” He gasped out once he was righted. The dwarf pulled him close and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. He was semi-obsessed with Bilbo’s curls it seemed. He found it adorable.

“I was searching for you, Melekûnel.” He pulled back and Bilbo grinned as warmth spread through his limbs. He lifted his arms to Thorin’s neck and pulled his body up so that he could kiss him good morning. He reaquainted himself with the king’s lips and mouth before dropping back to the floor and grinning cheekily at the breathless dwarf.

His eyes were a shade darker and intent on Bilbo. It made him practically preen under the attentions. He loved having such an effect on him. Thorin had an incredibly dramatic presence - in aura and body. He demanded attention regardless of where he was.So the fact that Bilbo could demand his attention from a kiss made him feel taller.

Thorin gave his head a little shake and took a tiny step back. His left hand found Bilbo’s hand and he clasped it tightly. His right hand drifted into his coat and tugged something Bilbo couldn’t see.

“Would you wear this for me, Melekûnel?” Thorin opened his palm and presented a ear cuff in the same style as the one he wore. It was oddly delicate, despite the thickness of the style. Bilbo still couldn’t understand how the dwarves with their large hands managed to make such tiny, detailed things that were so finely crafted.

It made him smile to see the little piece of jewelry. He’d admired the ones that each member of the company had. It was something that all dwarves apparently had in common.

Thorin was offering him one that he had specifically made to fit his ear.

“I-thank you.” It was hard to speak around the lump in his throat and he wasn’t certain he’d actually managed to. Thorin closed his hand and brought it up to Bilbo’s face. He brushed the back of his fingers against his cheek and Bilbo’s eyes fluttered. He sucked in lung fulls of air and forced his eyes to stay open. He looked up at Thorin’s face and his gaze stuck on his lips.

“This may hurt a little, my Melekûnel.” Bilbo gave his head a nod and Thorin’s eyes drifted to his ear.

Thorin had a way of looking at Bilbo that literally made the hobbit lose his breath. It was a strange intensity that resulted in everything on the dwarf’s face softening and his eyes locking on Bilbo. His gaze would never waver and it felt as if he was logging every word Bilbo said, every move of his body, quirk of his lips and flick of his hair away in a jeweled chest never to be forgotten. He was being remembered, every detail of those moments would not be forgotten by Thorin.

It was an honor that Bilbo was at a loss to describe. To have the attention of someone as magnificent as Thorin was heady enough, but to have him _remember_ him. To actively try to record everything so that he would never forget a moment with _Bilbo_. Someone who really should never have crossed paths with someone as simple and utterly unimportant as Bilbo was focusing all his attention on him willingly so that he could simply remember him. So that he could treasure the moment and look back on it tenderly some time in the future. Because he cared for Bilbo.

Bilbo suspected that it was because he loved him. He knew the dwarf had chosen him. From his conversations with the other dwarves during their long trek across the wild, he knew that was a big deal. Dwarves only married once, and they only asked once. They rarely turned from their given craft, and when they did it was not something they ever did lightly.

The pressure on his ear was sudden and quick. A brief pain spread through his ear and he grit his teeth against making any noise. Cool metal clamped around his ear and a slight weight tugged it down. They were still for a moment, and then Thorin let his hand drop back down Bilbo’s cheek to rest next to his neck. His thumb settled on Bilbo’s pulse and the hobbit’s chest thumped.

“This marks you as a dwarf of high order.” Thorin said slowly. His eyes didn’t move from the ear cuff. “The runes are of the line of Durin.” The fingers that were tangled with his tightened. “Do not doubt your importance to us. Do not let anyone talk down to you. Tell any of us if you are mistreated in the slightest. Tell me.” His gaze was intense and demanding and it was all Bilbo could do to keep looking at his lips.

Thorin’s hand cupped his cheek. “You are to be accorded every honor. It is _our honor_ to make sure you are treated as the nobility you are.”

He bent down and pressed his lips against Bilbo’s again in a possessive kiss. Bilbo wasn’t so worried anymore.

=[]=[]=[]=

There were dwarves everywhere. In Erebor and out and Bilbo had no idea who most of them were. He’d gotten horribly mixed up in the confusion of everybody arriving and now he was standing beside Bifur who was thankfully fairly easy to pick out of a crowd. The dwarf was holding one of Bombur’s daughters (he had _fourteen_ children!)

 _-Exciting?-_ Bifur signed with a grin. Bilbo nodded his head, trying to decide if the dwarf directly in front of him was male or female. It was hard to tell from the back when they wore pants. The women had finer beards and softer faces than their male counterparts.

He replied to Bifur right as the dwarf-a female-turned.

 _-Yes. Erebor will be full.-_ He smiled at the thought. The city was too empty right now. The men were starting to move into the new dwellings they’d made in Dale. He saw dwarves from the Iron Hills frequently enough-especially the royalty. Dain was always around as was his son (Also a Thorin which wasn’t confusing at all.)

“You know iglishmêk?” The dwarrowdame’s face was incredulous and her stance was stiff. She’d drawn herself to her full height and Bilbo faltered. Was something wrong? He wasn’t certain what that last word had been and he was fairly positive he’d mis-read it. The only thing he could think of that she might have been talking about was the signs that Bifur and the other dwarves occasionally used.

“I know how to sign?” His eyes flickered to Bifur who was frowning. The red-head dwarf lass of Bombur’s  was gurgling happily as she tangled her tiny hands into his beard.

“Who taught you the secrets of our race? You are not-” the female balked and stepped back and Bilbo glanced back over her shoulder at Bifur. The dwarf was no longer looking at him, but at something behind Bilbo.

Thorin. He knew it was the dwarf before he even drew near.

Bilbo expected the hands that were dropped onto his shoulder and he smiled at the hold. Thorin’s hard armored shirt brushed against his back and the warmth of the dwarf seeped into his own shirt. He had no way of knowing what Thorin was saying, but the lady was alarmed whatever it was. Dark delight curled in his belly and he stood straighter. Bilbo was connected to power. She should have known better than to challenge him.

Thorin’s right arm lifted from his shoulder until only his fingers were brushing against him. The digits trailed up his shoulder to his neck and then his ear. He brushed the lobe and then went to the tip of his ear, fiddling with the ear cuff there. The dwarrowdame’s eyes widened. She nodded at something Thorin said and stepped back.

“You’re apologies, milord.” The dwarf bowed and stepped back before disappearing into the crowd of dwarves. Bilbo’s eyes widened and the dark delight flared briefly before uncertainty took it over.

Why on earth did he want her to bow to him? Where had that desire even come from?

Thorin turned him around and his blue eyes were bright. _-You know sign?-_

Bilbo nodded his head and Thorin beamed. He looked over Bilbo’s shoulder, probably at Bifur, and gave his head a slight nod. “Well thought, Bifur.” He held the dwarf’s gaze for a moment before dropping his eyes back to Bilbo.

“Now, my dear Bilbo, I have someone who I would like to introduce you to.” Bilbo felt his eyes widen and his smile drop as his entire body lit with nerves. “Kurduel, do not fear. She will love you as I do.”

He stepped to Bilbo’s side and looped his arm through the hobbit’s who was no longer paying attention to where he was going. His mind was roaring and his feet were stumbling forward. Not only was he about to meet the last member of Thorin’s family but-

The dwarf had just said, in a roundabout way, that he loved Bilbo. A giddy smile lifted his lips up and he nearly fell from how much he simply could not focus on where he was going. Thorin led him to a dwarf with hair as dark as his own, pulled back in a complicated plait. She had eyes the same color as Fíli’s, but her face looked far more like Kíli and Thorin. Fíli had taken after his father then.

She had Thorin’s sharp nose, though it wasn’t quite so large, and his stern gaze. Her beard was thinner and neatly braided. Her keen eyes took Bilbo in instantly, narrowing on the hand that Thorin had on his arm. Her eyes drifted up his arm, past his shoulder and to his ear before returning to his face. She raised one thick eyebrow. “Nadad.”

“Namad.” Thorin greeted again, his lips up in a wide grin. Fíli and Kíli were at her sides and they seemed to promise mischief.

“Lady Dís,” Bilbo greeted with a bow. He took a deep breath while his head was bowed before he sat back and met the regal dwarf’s eyes. He stilled his shoulders and tried to stay easy as she inspected him. He could only hope he passed. He decided he would be himself, and if he was going to be damned, then at least it wasn’t for a lie. “You are more lovely than I could have imagined.” He turned to regard Thorin with a raised eyebrow. “Are you actually related to her? You certainly didn’t get the looks.”

Dís laughed and Bilbo relaxed. He noticed that Thorin’s shoulders also lost their tension. “Well, I cannot argue. This is indeed my sister. Dís, this is Bilbo Baggins. Our Burglar and my yâsithâl.”(intended)

“Your Yâsithâl?” She asked, her eyes betraying surprise. “Indeed? Much has happened in the year you have been gone, then.” Thorin nodded his head wryly.

“It will be a long tale to tell, and one that will have to be told later. We have to get everyone sorted first.” Thorin tugged him nearer and, with a firm grip on Bilbo’s arm, led him on through the crowd.

=[]=[]=[]=

Thorin was having a remarkable amount of trouble concentrating. He was conversing with Dís and several members of the old court. He was keeping track of where all his dwarves from the company were and Bilbo as well. He was attempting to make sure that they were not mistreated by older dwarves who hoped that they could reclaim their former positions.

His dwarves were doing well. They were mostly talking to family or old friends and avoiding the unwanted attention quite successfully.

Bilbo was in the back corner of the hall so that he could see both sides without worrying about someone coming up behind him. He had a cup in his left hand and his right hand was stuffed in his pocket, fiddling with something. Another dwarf was standing beside him. He was as tall as Dwalin and had bronzed skin. His blond hair was thick and covered in braids. He had a long beard and a warg coat and he was leaning in towards Bilbo.

“And, of course that will result in a surplus.” Dís stated with a pleasant smile. Thorin tried to return his attention to the matter at hand. The blond dwarf laughed and placed a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. Thorin imagined three different ways he could get rid of the dwarf. The broken walkways seemed like a delightful idea.

Dís caught his gaze and subtly raised her eyebrow in question. Thorin tilted his head down and to the side the slightest bit to let her know there wasn’t a problem.

“I would suggest that you consult Gloin. He has been appointed head of our treasury and has done a remarkable job managing the funds.” Thorin heard a small laugh from Bilbo and his hand tightened around his goblet. He wanted to stomp across the hall and throttle the dwarf who was-

Thorin stilled, completely and utterly stilled, as the dwarf placed his entire palm against Bilbo’s arm and ran it up and down the length before squeezing in an affectionate manner. Mounting rage thundered through Thorin’s body and he felt something sharp lodge in his finger tips. A quick glance down revealed that he’d just snapped the handle on his goblet.

Dís was still talking to the dwarf and had managed to distract him from Thorin’s currently fracturing control.

He couldn’t understand it. He knew that his fellow involved dwarves -the few that he knew- were possessive of their mates. It was a part of life. Dwarves were naturally possessive and protective of what they thought as theirs. None of the other dwarves Thorin knew had as much of a problem as he did though. It was a constant awareness and a constant need to claim and it made it hard to do almost anything else.

They functioned perfectly fine. They didn’t snap goblets.

Thorin was a king. He should have more control than this. He swallowed thickly and turned his gaze back to Fraís. He was charmed by Dís so Thorin simply offered his own smile.

A giggle from Bilbo had Thorin depositing the remainder of his goblet with a servant and cutting across the hall in a few decisive steps. Bilbo’s eyes drifted to his and the large smile that had been lifting his lips started to drop as concern replaced it. He went straight to his Burglar and took his arm. Without a single glance at the blond dwarf that was going to be arrested if he tried anything, Thorin took Bilbo out of the hall. He went down the corridor, took a right, and went up a flight of stairs until he was at his room. He locked the door before turning to Bilbo.

“Thorin?” The hobbit huffed, looking annoyed, “What is going o-

He cut Bilbo off with the pressure of his mouth, his arm wrapped around the hobbit’s waist and his hand wrapped around the back of Bilbo’s neck, trying to pull him closer. He kissed him till he was breathless, his tongue twisting with his Burglar’s.

Thorin could not get enough of Bilbo. He tore his mouth from the hobbit’s and buried his face in the apple scented warmth of his throat. He used his greater size to propel Bilbo backwards until the hobbit was pinned between him and the wall. He freed his hands and froze for a moment while he tried to decide where to touch him. He had to touch him, the urge was half maddening and irresistible. He had to feel the silky skin beneath his fingers and taste it on his lips.

“Thorin… _Thorin_.” Bilbo cried as he tugged at the collar of his shirt until he had bared a shoulder. He didn’t particularly care that the fabric had ripped. His mouth immediately descended to the revealed skin and he let his lips rest against it for a moment before he nipped the flesh. Bilbo’s head fell to the side to allow him more access and his breath came out in gasp. He strained upwards against Thorin’s chest, trying to get higher and closer to the dwarf. Thorin’s lips spread in a grin and he grasped Bilbo tighter.

His hand ran down the hobbit’s side to grip at his thigh. He tugged and Bilbo arched his back before hopping up and wrapping his legs around Thorin’s waist. It brought them deliciously closer and narrowed Thorin’s entire focus to were his want was most earnest.

He took Bilbo in his arms and went to the bed. He was going to let Dís handle the politics for a while. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have no idea why Thorin is so much easier to write in this story... It was supposed to be primarily from Bilbo's point of view but it just works better with Thorin. 
> 
> And, just encase you missed the tag, Thorin will be fighting possessive behavior for the rest of this fic. ;)


	10. Chapter 10

The thought of not having Bilbo for another second was unbearable. Thorin’s head tilted down as far as he could go while still carrying Bilbo and the hobbit stretched up as far as he could so that their lips met. He was warm and soft and closed-lipped or not, Thorin’s chest rumbled happily.

He deposited his precious arm full on the bed and then went at the hobbit full force.

He started with the shirt that he had already partially unbuttoned. He’d damaged the collar fairly badly in his earlier haste, but he didn’t really care. Bilbo’s hand tangled in Thorin’s hair and _tugged_ , and the dwarf bellowed before just ripping the shirt the rest of the way. He pushed it off Bilbo’s shoulders and fumbled for the laces on his breeches.

Bilbo tugged at his shirt, panting impatiently when Thorin’s arms got in the way. The dwarf sat back just long enough to shuck the armored shirt off, along with his tunic, before plastering his chest against Bilbo’s.

He had at most two hours before Dis came for him. He’d need to make sure to use the time well. He focused on Bilbo’s mouth while his hands went back to work on the overly complicated laces that were keeping the hobbit’s breeches in place. Bilbo’s hands found his buttocks and he arched into the touch. He managed to untie the blasted laces and pulled back to simply breathe and look at his hobbit.

Bilbo kept fumbling at the clasp of Thorin’s belt and the hobbit was right, it really was in the way so Thorin tugged the metal open. He needed to touch and claim and mark this hobbit as his. _Menu men_. He thought darkly, possessively. The hobbit was his and his alone. None others could have him and all would know that he belonged to Thorin.

He kicked his braies off and lowered himself back on Bilbo. He returned to the neck and shoulder that had garnered his interest back by the door.

Thorin pressed another kiss to Bilbo’s neck before gliding down to attend to his chest. As he caressed his hobbit, the image of that blond touching Bilbo’s arm kept flashing through his mind. He remembered Bilbo mentioning previous liaisons and his jaw tightened. Anger gripped his stomach and he couldn’t move his hand from the bedsheet. Bitterness stole his breath and bile rose in his throat at the thought of his hobbit moaning someone elses name.

He dug his nails into the bed.

He was overreacting, of course. He’d had previous lovers, and Bilbo felt nothing but friendship for the other dwarves in their company, and he would not have knowingly flirted with blondy. The fire still rose in his belly, and it made it hard to fight the anger that always seemed to be bubbling in his chest of late.

He tore away from Bilbo’s hold and turned his face away, glaring at the wall as he tried to get a grip on whatever was wrong with him.

“Thorin?” Bilbo’s voice trembled and Thorin had to close his eyes. “What did I- did I displease you?” Bilbo’s voice, naked with fear and worry he couldn’t suppress because he didn’t know they were obvious, tore at Thorin. He clenched his hands into fist, relishing the way his nails dug into his palms. The pain would aid in distracting him. Later he would see them and remember to keep control. He inhaled sharply and released the breath through his mouth. The exhale was loud in the otherwise silent room. He could feel Bilbo still staring up at him, his expression starting to slip into the same mask he’d worn at the top of the Carrock when he’d thought Thorin hated him.

Laughable. It was the opposite that was causing his problems. The jealousy and fury were coiled tight in his chest, demanding he take what was his and stake his claim for the world to see. The dark voice wanted him to take Bilbo, hard and fast and _brutally_. Wanted the hobbit to limp around so that everyone would know that Thorin had taken him. That only Thorin could take him. It wanted to cover Bilbo in dark marks and angry bruises.

Thorin inhaled and exhaled again. He would not harm Bilbo. He would _not harm Bilbo_.

He would leave the mountain to rule Erebor as an exiled king before he allowed himself to harm Bilbo. He had said, once, that Bilbo was not worth risking everything on. He had not even given his dear hobbit the honor of naming him. He would never again reduce himself to such a level.

He. Would. Not. Harm. Bilbo.

He turned back to his hobbit and tugged him up and onto his lap. Bilbo went willingly, trembling the slightest bit. Thorin’s own hand shook from suppressed desires and rage. Bilbo grabbed his chin and pulled him closer for a thick kiss that made Thorin’s mind stop thinking for a long moment.

He gripped Bilbo tightly to his chest with one arm and used the other to shove everything off the bed and onto the floor. An oddly loud thud echoed through the room, but Thorin’s want-fogged mind barely heard it.

Bilbo’s bare chest was exquisite. He could feel Bilbo’s nipples against his pectorals, and his own, hard, were rubbing against Bilbo’s smooth skin. It demanded to be tasted, again, and Thorin was not about to deny it. He kissed his way back down Bilbo’s collarbone, paused to lick at his clavicle before going down to his pectorals. His right hand smoothed over Bilbo’s shoulder while he kissed a wet trail to the hobbit’s left nipple.

The first brush of his lips against it had Bilbo thrashing in his arms. Thorin grinned against Bilbo’s chest and lowered him back against the covers to continue his exploring. Bilbo made a high pitched whining noise in the back of his throat and Thorin desperately wanted to hear more of it. He loved the way Bilbo trembled and arched and tried to press closer all the while clutching at Thorin as if it would be painful to let him go.

It didn’t occur to him until later, after they had both climaxed from the way he’d thrusted their erections together, that his mind was clear and the overpowering need to posses had left. He hadn’t hurt Bilbo-had stopped wanting to after the kiss- but he still had no idea what was going on. It felt like a new madness.

Thorin was scared.

-[]-[]-[]-

Dís hadn’t said anything until after the ‘feast.’ She’d grabbed him by his braid and dragged him to a broom closet where she’d proceed to rant his ear off for leaving her with the stuffy officials before congratulating him on his pick of consort.

It had made Thorin guilty and proud.

She’d then given him a rare hug and went off to spend some more time with her sons. Thorin had spent another hour or so making sure to greet all the dwarves that had ridden over and he was truly exhausted. He still had much to discuss with Balin, Dwalin, and Gloin. Nori had said something about a lead earlier before the caravan had arrived and he had never spoke to him…

He actually ached he was so weary.

It was different from the weariness he was used to feeling. He knew weariness well. He’d had precious little time for sleep in his life. Leading desolate people across Middle Earth in search for jobs to get what meager rations he could had introduced him to it early. He’d fought in battles and traveled the earth restlessly with precious little time for sleep. He knew weariness, he embraced it. This was just different. It was something he felt in his bones, a restlessness and an exhaustion that nothing was shaking off. A longing for something deep inside that he had never felt for something.

Even the gold madness had not been like this.

And he still couldn’t sleep. He woke up every night for hours. He had no time to go to sleep earlier and he couldn’t sleep in. He had a kingdom to rebuild and countless dwarves depending on him.

He pushed the door to his chambers open slowly, an uneasy sensation crawling down his back. It was like a chilled air blowing over him, the feeling of being observed. He examined the darkening corridor behind him, but there was nothing visible in the shadows.

He shut the door, barred and locked it. He would not have any intruders tonight.

He turned back into the room and made his way across the chambers to the back room where his actual bed was. He could still see signs of his earlier tryst with Bilbo. He had knocked a chair over in his eagerness to get the hobbit to his bed.

He unclasped his cloak with weary hands and deposited it on the table before pushing the door to his sleep chamber open. The fur cloak slipped to the floor as he opened the door and he started to turn to pick it back up but he ended up choking on his breath instead.

There was someone sitting on his bed. Not just anyone, Bilbo.

The hobbit was seated at the center of the bed they had coupled in earlier, wrapped up in all the furs that were laid atop it. He had a book laid open in his lap and he was reading with the quiet abandon that Thorin only ever saw in Ori. His hair was tussled, the failed attempt at a post-sex braid still evident in the curls. Thorin had wanted to mark the hobbit in a more obvious way, hoping to warn other dwarves to stay far away.

Having the hobbit fur wrapped and perched on his bed seemed like a much better way.

Why had he never requested his hobbit fur wrapped before? It seemed like a horrible oversight now.

Thorin carefully shut the door, not thinking that Bilbo could not hear it to know that he had arrived. He slipped off his heavy shoes, his eyes heavily on his Burglar. The exhaustion still ached beneath his skin, but the promise of holding Bilbo while he slept was a heady one. One that made him gather energy to quickly strip into night clothes. Bilbo remained oblivious to Thorin’s presence. The gentle flipping of his books pages the only sound he made other than quiet gasps.

Had he ever left Thorin’s chambers? The king had been forced to make his exit first, needing to rejoin the other dwarves and relieve Dís from the officials.

The thought that Bilbo might not even be dressed under the furs made Thorin’s tired feet hasten to the bedside. He stopped short and realized that there was no way to alert the hobbit to his presence without scaring him at least a little.

He didn’t want to scare Bilbo. He was tired of scaring Bilbo.

He stood still for endless moment and watched as Bilbo turned another page. He was being ridiculous. The hobbit was in his bed, he was clearly waiting for Thorin. The dwarf stepped forward and placed his palms on the soft mattress before pulling himself up. Bilbo’s head snapped up and over and his entire body jerked, dislodging one of the furs.

He blinked in momentary fright before a nervous smile tugged at his lips. Thorin didn’t particularly care for the nervousness and leaned forward to kiss it away. Bilbo returned the languid kiss with a pleased hum and Thorin settled himself fully on the mattress. He tugged Bilbo nearer. relishing the warmth of his bare shoulder under his palm.

He was at least shirtless. Thorin approved of the development.

Bilbo curled around him, warm and sweet smelling, like summer days of his childhood. Before the dragon had come and darkness descended with madness. Exhaustion stole over Thorin before he could do much more than embrace Bilbo, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep and be rid of the unending weariness. He tipped back onto the bed, dragging Bilbo and the furs with him. The hobbit landed on his chest with an ‘oof’ and then clutched to him tightly.

“Thorin,” he mumbled, kissing at the dwarf’s throat. It made his spine tingle but his eye lids felt like they were made of iron, they were so heavy. He let them drop shut and buried his hands under Bilbo’s furs, allowing them to spread over his sides as his fingers stroked bare skin. Bilbo wrapped his own arms around Thorin’s middle and snuggled closer.

Bilbo’s weight settled on top of him, securing Thorin to the bed in a hold he could break easily if he wanted to.

He didn’t.

He could roll over and press Bilbo down with little effort. He could take him long and slow and have the hobbit screaming out his name for only Thorin to hear, but he didn’t need to. He felt content to have Bilbo enveloping him, and, for a moment, the mad longing was at bay.

Thorin fell asleep with a faint smile on his lips.

-[]-[]-[]-

He woke up with a scream. It tore from his throat, rough and loud and painful, and it made his heart hammer in his chest. It felt off beat and squeezed oddly and he couldn’t gasp in enough air. His legs trembled against the fur and his hands clenched into fist.

He was bursting with energy and fright and the smell of fire lingered in his mind. He could feel it’s heat against his skin and it was terrifying, a fear he would never be free from.

He hated how weak he felt when he woke from his nightmares.

He was a dwarf, made to be sturdy and un-dominatable. He was steady and tough and used to a hard life. He had faced countless foes, nameless evils, and had survived them all. He had been consumed by madness and rescued to see more sunrises. Yet when he slept, he was reduced to nothing but fear and pain and he was helpless against it.

Thorin hated that with a deep, burning passion.

His blood sang with energy and he needed to move. To distract himself from the screams echoing in his mind, the smoke lingering in the air, and the sweet call of the gold that had plagued his dreams again.

Bilbo wasn’t with him. Where had the hobbit gone?

“Oh, you did wake up.” The words were loud and came from the outer chamber, making Thorin jolt. He dropped his hand beside the bed and grabbed for Orcrist before his brain registered that it had been Bilbo talking. The hobbit came into the room carrying a tray of what looked like tea.

He was wearing one of Thorin’s tunics. The dwarf’s brain tripped over that, and for the life of him, he could not take anything else in. It was long on the halfling, reaching well past his knees, and he’d had to roll the sleeves up so that he could move his arms.

Thorin decided that the hobbit would be wearing more of his clothing.

Bilbo glanced up, being careful not to spill the tea with his precarious balance, and grinned at whatever Thorin’s expression was. He quickly smoothed his features and tried to pull a dignified air around himself. “What is that?”

“A blended herb tea that we’re going to try. You have the worst insomnia I’ve ever seen and I am determined that it will get better. You started moaning in your sleep an hour ago and nothing I did was soothing you so I decided we would try this approach.” He set the tray carefully beside the bed and climbed up by Thorin’s side. He’d added another log to the fire because the room was pleasantly warm and bright enough that he could make Bilbo out relatively well with the bed curtains drawn back.

“Which is?”

“Drugging you into happy dreams.” Bilbo responded with a cheeky grin. He poured a cup tea-it was a pale yellowish color-and passed it to Thorin. He recognized the scent of chamomile, Dori was mildly obsessed with the tea, but there was another scent under it that he didn’t recognize.

“What is in it?” Thorin took a sip of the tea, trusting that Bilbo would not harm him. It was...odd.

“Chamomile and Aniseed. Chamomile to relax you and send you off to sleep, and Aniseed to make sure that your dreams stay away.” Thorin drained a bit more of the tea.

“I thought you had merely grown bored of my company.”

“Quite the opposite. I’m thinking of just moving in. Your chamber is far more spacious and you don’t walk around with candles in the middle of the night like Bifur.”

“I run.” Thorin pointed out. He sipped some more of the tea. It wasn’t so bad after a few sips. If it worked he would gladly drink it every night.

“On a schedule.” Bilbo scooted closer and slipped his feet under the furs. “Now finish that up. I was having a delightful dream and I want to return to it and your arms.”

Thorin swallowed down the remainder of his tea and set the glass aside. He turned back to his hobbit and laid down. Bilbo slid closer and tucked his feet beside Thorin’s.

“Your feet are like ice.” Bilbo snorted and brushed his nose against Thorin’s arm. It felt wonderfully domestic. Thorin hadn’t known that was something he would ever want.

“That’s why I put them next to yours.” He tilted his head down and pressed his cheek against Thorin’s chest. “Do you still need to run?”

Thorin lifted a hand to sign and realized that he’d calmed down. The flighty sensation that always plagued his body when he woke up was gone, and he wasn’t sure when it had left. He could still feel the faint undercurrent of fear, but it wasn’t as maddening.

_-No.-_

Bilbo snuggled in closer, his warmth seeping into Thorin’s skin. The dwarf closed his eyes and allowed the quiet sound of Bilbo breathing to lure him to a dreamless sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

There was precious little on earth as dull as Council meetings. Thorin had disliked them in Ered Luin, but they seemed far worse now. The politics were tangled and every spoken word had to be carefully weighed.

There were several powerful families that now had to be included in large council meetings that had previously consisted of fifteen total dwarves. There were whispers about why non noble families were allowed on the council, and questions about the qualifications of the new guild heads. Accusations were made that the twelve dwarves from the company were being given favor and Thorin had to answer to it all.

He made it clear that the companies new status would not be changing. They had earned their positions and proven their loyalty a thousand times over.

Erebor was in a new age. The old kingdoms balance of power had changed. Irrevocably.

And the work of rebuilding never ended. It seemed clearer each day that it would take the remainder of his life to fully restore Erebor.

He felt honored to have the privilege of restoring the kingdom but it was draining. He often found himself drifting off into thoughts of what he would do with his free time. They primarily involved Bilbo and very few, if any, clothing.

He would have much rather been day dreaming right now than listening.

"The contract would obviously be better filled by Eris of the Iron Hills." Nikabrik stated. Thorin clenched his hand under the table and tried to keep his other hand from trembling. He kept his face carefully reserved and his voice even. He could not let anger color his decisions or reasoning.

"I have seen nothing to indicate such. I have already declared that the contract will remain within Erebor. Fraís will fill the contract." Nikabrik frowned menacingly. He leaned forward in his seat, his grey hair falling over his shoulder before he growled.

"Fraís is the cousin of the brothers Ri.” Thorin leaned forward the slightest bit and used his height to appear larger. He pulled a air of majesty and power around himself and watched as every dwarf around the table but his company shrank back a little. The heirs of Durin were not to be trifled with. Thorin would never let anyone try and undermine him in any situation. He was a king and these dwarves would not question him.

“And a citizen of Erebor. He will fulfill the contract.”

“Eris is your cousin, Nikabrik.” Balin added after a moment. The grey haired dwarf whipped his head towards Balin, fire in his eyes. Balin smiled. “I understand wanting to see your kin prosper. We’ll keep him in mind for future efforts.”

“I will hear no more on this matter. Nori, you have a report?” Thorin leaned back in his seat, dismissing Nikabrik’s argument without another word. The dwarf straightened in his chair, his gaze returning to Thorin with silent, cold fury. It wasn’t the first time Thorin had received such a look from the dwarf. He always seemed to be scowling or glaring at someone. His father had been high in the council during Thrór’s reign. He held no such power now and he was rather... disgruntled... about that.

Thorin was also quite certain he disliked Hobbits. It tempted the King to simply have him kicked off the council for that insolence.

“We’ve traced the elements used in the arson back to Lake Town.”

Thorin’s eyebrow raised of it’s own accord as a deep anger stirred in his chest. “Indeed?”

Nori nodded his head and shuffled through a pile of notes. “The plant grows wild in the town and is used primarily to start fires. It travels easily though.”

“So a man did it?” Dwalin asked, his voice gruff. Nori shook his head.

“No. Everyone who travels through Lake Town seems to leave with some. We even had it in our packs.” Thorin was glad he hadn't been holding anything because he probably would have cracked it. It was maddening to keep running into dead ends. Someone had burned his kingdom and attempted to harm  _his_ hobbit. They needed to pay.

“So the entire Kingdom is still under suspicion?”  Nikabrik sat back and nearly grinned. Thorin remained carefully still. The dwarf didn’t seem to realize the fire he was messing with. Thorin wanted to tear the head off of anyone who so much as looked at Bilbo with interest. He could not describe the burning in his blood that made him want to _destroy_ the vermin that had tried to harm him. There was no pain he could inflict on such a being that would be intense enough.

“Very well, continue your investigation, Nori. You may question anyone you suspect and you have full access to anything that may aid your investigation.” He pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. “Now we shall convene for the day.” He swept out of the hall as quickly as he could, trying to breathe steadily and regain control of the anger that was pounding throughout his entire body. It was intense and consuming, a feeling he was starting to grow quite accustomed to.

Bilbo was waiting at the doors with a smile and basket.

The tension in Thorin’s shoulders instantly subsided at the sight of his hobbit and he made quick work of the feet between them. Bilbo beamed brilliantly at the sight of Thorin, and the dwarf wrapped him in an embrace as quickly as he could. He seemed to have a constant need to touch Bilbo. To reassure himself that the hobbit was near and was his. Bilbo was warm in his arms, solid and so very real. It was comforting and left Thorin feeling almost content. Bilbo mumbled something against his chest too quietly to understand.

“Sanzeuh?”

Bilbo pulled back the slightest bit and repeated himself, still too quietly. He was smiling, which made Thorin think that he didn't realize he was whispering. It brought a familiar ache in his gut. An ache of guilt at what he had let happen to this dear hobbit.

“So this is the hobbit?” Thorin stiffened as a mix of anger and annoyance replaced the happiness and guilt he'd been feeling. He stepped back and turned to face Nikabrik, blocking Bilbo from as much of his view as he could.

“Yes, this is my intended. Sir Bilbo Baggins, Dragonbane and the future King’s Consort.”

“I imagined he would be taller.” Nikabrik observed with a leer. “This is the hobbit who has been taught the secrets of our people?”

“This is the only hobbit in all of Erebor. He has been named dwarf-kind and has been granted every honor that comes with the title.” Nikabrik straightened and the leer slipped into something more polite. The slug had remembered just who he was talking to then.

“Guard them well, halfling. I imagine I will see you again.” He inclined his head and marched off down the corridor. Bilbo watched the stocky dwarf leave with an un-amused frown.

“Who on earth was that delightful dwarf?” It was amazing how much sarcasm he could still inflict in his voice even though he could not hear it.

Bilbo’s head turned back to Thorin and his gaze trained on the dwarf’s lips. It made a shiver run down his spine, remembering the earlier day dreams he’d slipped off to when the meeting had gotten dull. “Nikabrik. His father was on the ruling council in Thrór’s time. He has since taken the position and enjoys stirring trouble.”

Bilbo closed the distance between them and looped his arm around Thorin’s. “What charming council meetings you must have. Come on, I’ve set us up a lunch in the garden.” He tugged Thorin’s arm and the dwarf followed him with little resistance. He was still angry, the bubbling feeling had settled deep in his chest and would take some time to clear.

He was confident in Bilbo’s abilities to do so.

-[]-[]-[]-

Thorin, by nature, was not clumsy. Dwarves were stout and moved through the air with purpose. They were not particularly light on their feet, but they were not prone to tripping of falling.

Thorin would forsake that reputation gladly to save Bilbo from harm. The hobbit, his dear little hobbit, was dangerously clumsy. He’d been remarkably sure footed at the quest’s beginning, but since his...injuries, he’d been unable to keep his balance.

Thorin protected him whenever possible. He walked as close as properness would allow, and occasionally closer. He would hold his hobbit’s hand and guide him with confident steps, and make sure that Bilbo didn’t stumble. And he’d tug Bilbo upright if he started to fall.

The hobbit was trying to surprise him with a snack before he met with Daín. Bilbo liked to show his love best through meals. Thorin was more than content to partake in any culinary delight that Bilbo wished to bestow on him.

Bilbo had set the ‘afternoon tea’ up in Thorin’s chamber-now-turned-Bilbo’s-chambers-as-well and had sat the dwarf in front of the fire. He’d put a fur out and set up a light meal of cheese, apples, and bread. He was returning with the pot of tea and his foot caught on the edge of the fur.

Thorin didn’t think before grabbing the blade off the ground when Bilbo slipped. The knife had been used to slice an apple. They were Bilbo’s favorite snack and the hobbit always seemed to have a few on his person. Thorin couldn’t smell the fruit without instantly thinking of his Sanzeuh’s sweet scent.

The blade, as they are want to do, cut open his palm when he snatched it up on the wrong end. Bilbo fell to the ground with a startled yelp, right where the knife had been. He righted himself after a moment, wheezing a bit and clutching his knee where he’d fallen.

Thorin didn’t even feel the pain of his new cut as he moved forward to investigate Bilbo for any injuries. The fire lit the room in a soft glow, and the shadows it created made Thorin fear the worse for a moment.

“You’re bleeding.” Bilbo’s voice was oddly hitched and his hand trembled as he removed it from his slightly pink knee. That was the only injury Thorin could see and it made his heart, which had started to race painfully fast, settle.

His hand stung.

Thorin dropped his gaze to his palm and was mildly surprised to see it was actually bleeding. He hadn’t notice the blade slicing him. “I caught it on the knife.” He returned his eyes to Bilbo. The hobbit was far nicer to look at than his bleeding hand. Bilbo frowned and moved closer on the fur. He grabbed Thorin’s hand, his grip impossibly gentle, and turned it over in his hand so he could investigate the cut.

His brow furrowed in adorable worry, and Thorin marveled at his own mental description. He had never used such words as adorable before Bilbo. He let his eyes trail down to the hobbit’s tempting lips, not thinking about his stinging hand any longer. It wasn’t as important.

“-clean that way.” Thorin only heard the final words. He was having trouble thinking with the way Bilbo was stroking his thumb along Thorin’s knuckles. It was maddeningly innocent and distracting and Thorin desperately wanted more of it. Craved it more than gold.

Bilbo set the injured hand in his lap and picked up a pack that he’d set by the furs. It was one he always had with him. As far as Thorin had been aware it was just his writing utensils and blank book. The hobbit pulled out a roll of bandages and Thorin very nearly snorted.

Bilbo smirked. “I’m prepared. A year of traveling with your nephews has taught me that it’s a good idea to have bandages at the ready.” Thorin’s smile came quickly and easily, as they always seemed to with Bilbo. When they were alone anyway.

Bilbo dabbed the blood off of Thorin’s calloused hand with a soft napkin and warm fingers. He was blushing, probably from Thorin’s gaze, and that made something warm and oddly fuzzy uncurl in the dwarf’s stomach. Bilbo looked fetching with a warm blush. Aware that he had Thorin’s attention and unsure what to do with it.

It made him furious anytime another dwarf or man made him blush. Those pink cheeks were Thorin’s, and his alone.

Bilbo wrapped the bandage around Thorin’s hand methodically with fingers that were accustomed to the job. It was amazing how quickly the hobbit could subdue his turbulent thoughts. “My mother always tied bandages like this.” Bilbo observed, tugging the two ends together in a simple knot that somehow looked like the little hearts Bilbo would leave for Thorin in his missives. He’d never seen them before Bilbo. “And of course, we follow it with this.” Bilbo flashed him a soft smile before lifting the injured hand to his lips and pressing the lightest kiss to the bandage.

“You kiss my wound?” Thorin’s skin tingled, and not from the pain. Bilbo nodded his head, mild confusion playing across his handsome, open features.

“Yes? Did your mother never kiss your scrapes to make them better?”

Thorin shook his head. “No. That is not something I’ve ever heard of dwarves doing.” Bilbo’s gaze turned more tender and it made Thorin’s heart thump. He was suddenly grateful that his hobbit was holding his hand and not his wrist. His pulse was probably racing.

“It’s just a simple idea. A little love to make the pain go away.” His thumb kept brushing against Thorin’s knuckles and the dwarf’s heart was doing it’s very best to pound out of his chest. Falling in love had happened slowly for him. Gradually enough that Thorin hadn’t even realized it had happened. A steady slipping that had led him until he was too far gone to do anything but embrace the love he felt for the hobbit. He could no longer feel his heart beating without thinking of the soft blue-green eyes and the smile that made the stars seem to dim.

Bilbo hadn’t said he loved Thorin yet. The dwarf hung on his every word in anticipation of hearing the words spoken. It seemed a vain hope-Thorin had done precious little in his life to earn Bilbo’s love. He couldn’t even figure out how he’d earned his affection most days-but it was a hope he clung to none the less. Bilbo hadn’t said the words yet, but he gave little hints like that which made Thorin’s heart try its best to beat out of his chest and join Bilbo’s.

“We have a half hour before you have to leave?” Thorin nodded his head, unable to tear his eyes from where Bilbo was still stroking his hand. “Then come here. I want to hold you for a while before you have to leave for Daín.” He tugged Thorin forward by his hand but instead of wrapping him in his arms (a thought Thorin found very agreeable) he settled him down so that Thorin was reclining on the floor with his head in the hobbit’s lap. The fur was soft, the fire warm, and Bilbo’s scent surrounded him.

Bilbo’s hands quickly found their way into his hair and pet the locks they found. Thorin let his eyes slip closed at the repetitive strokes and let it ease away his weariness and the fire in his chest. It seemed a constant state, the fire, and he only ever really noticed it when Bilbo made it disappear.

Closing his eyes made it easier to forget the anger. He’d discovered late at night that shutting his eyes allowed him to be more aware of his others senses. The fire’s warmth on his skin. The gentle tugging of Bilbo’s hands in his hair. The softness of the hobbit’s lap. The scent of earth and tea and apples that was so uniquely Bilbo. It was a scent that had come to mean comfort and security to Thorin.

His mind grew foggier with each brush of Bilbo’s hand. Sleep called to his mind but Thorin did not want to heed its summon. Moments with Bilbo, moments like this were far too precious for sleep. He’d spent most of his life aloof and free from such showy affection. Simple touch was something he relished from Bilbo. His hobbit never hesitated to touch him. Whether it was to hold his hand when they walked, embrace him when they met, or just rest his arm against him while they sat. Bilbo always seemed to try and touch him.

Thorin savored each one.

He craved the hobbit’s affection, craved his touch and attention more than any other. He’d been raised as royalty, and touch had not been a luxury he was afforded. He’d lost his kingdom and been forced to lead his people at a young age and he’d seen touch as a weakness he couldn’t afford and didn’t deserve. He squashed the urges until he no longer felt it. Only his family received any sort of affectionate touch from him.

Then Bilbo had looked so hurt and he’d been unable to stop from embracing him. That simple touch had cracked his earlier resolve and he began to look for excuses to touch the hobbit.

And Bilbo happily touched him in return.

The lull of sleep grew stronger and Thorin forced his eyes open. His hand ached dully, but Thorin didn’t particularly feel inclined to care about it. It had served its purpose. It had earned a kiss from Bilbo and Thorin would not be bothered with it any more.

Bilbo leaned over him, humming absently and looking at the rise and fall of Thorin’s chest. He was only half lit by the fire’s light. His curls appeared more golden in the flickering light and he had a soft smile on his lips. His skin glowed faintly and his eyes sparkled.

He looked like gold and jewels. Like the utterly precious gem he was.

“Sanzeuh.” He hadn’t meant to breathe the words but he couldn’t hold the feeling inside. His skin already felt far too tight to hold all the he felt inside.

“What is that?” Bilbo’s voice cut through the quiet air and made Thorin’s skin tingle. “Sansue?”

Thorin signed the letters out slowly. S.A.N.Z.E.U.H. Bilbo watched him with studious eyes. “Sanzeuh?” The pronunciation was off but the word was quite possibly the sweetest thing Thorin had ever heard him speak.

It surprised Thorin just how much hearing Bilbo say that word made his breath jerk and his heart race. He’d never been aware just how badly he wanted that. He had no idea what hobbits called their beloved, or if they even had the same concepts. Explaining it would be difficult, the common tongue didn’t have a word for all that Sanzeuh meant. It would risk a lot as well. Thorin was still unsure how deep Bilbo’s feelings for him ran. He wished to wed Bilbo, to make him his consort and keep him by his side for the rest of his life.

He had no idea what Bilbo wanted.

“Sanzueh.” Thorin finally said quietly. It hardly mattered how loud he spoke. Bilbo would not know. His mouth worked the now familiar word, savoring it and the rush it gave him. He actually had a Sanzeuh now. He kept staring ahead not at Bilbo. Looking at the hobbit would make him incapable of continuing. “It means everything. It means I love you, and I want you. That I want you to be well even at the cost of myself. It means that my very soul longs for your presence and is malcontent unless you are near.” He blinked and when he opened his eyes they found Bilbo’s without any prompting. Bilbo seemed to sway at the intensity of his gaze and it made Thorin feel both powerful and achingly protective. “It means _everything.”_

Bilbo’s mouth dropped open and Thorin lay still, waiting for Bilbo to free him or condemn him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sanzeuh== My perfect One or my True One.


	12. Chapter 12

It was amazing, truly amazing, how long a single breath could take. Thorin felt vaguely like he still had his eyes closed because he was aware of every one of his senses in the way he only was when they were closed.

Bilbo’s face had frozen. He didn’t blink and his mouth remained slightly open in a silent gasp. The hand that had been combing his hair was still. He could feel the faintest scratch of Bilbo’s nail against his scalp with each passing breath. The wool of Bilbo’s trousers rubbed against Thorin’s arms and the room was silent other than the crackling of the logs in the fire.

Bilbo exhaled and still didn’t make a sound. Thorin expected to feel terrified. It seemed like the sort of thing one would feel terrified about. He’d just confessed to loving his hobbit and now he was waiting to see if Bilbo was going to return that love or break their courtship.

He should be terrified. He wasn’t. He didn’t know why.

Bilbo kept staring at him like he was trying to make sense of what he’d just heard. Thorin had signed the simple words as well, making sure that Bilbo would know what he was saying. It was hard to explain to someone that they were light and warmth and peace and home and happiness and he did not think he would be able to do it again. He also didn’t want to break the silence first. It was Bilbo’s turn to speak. Whatever he said, Thorin would survive. He’d said all he could.

Bilbo’s mouth opened before clicking shut again. He blinked and Thorin was glad that he was finally reacting. He reached up, needing to touch Bilbo, and stroked the back of his hand against the hobbit’s soft cheek.

Bilbo giggled. It was a breathy, wheezy, beautiful little sound that made the air seem to light up. Thorin had no idea what to do with that reaction, but the helpless, bubbly sound made Thorin’s own lips tug up in an irrepressible grin. Bilbo’s eyes were bright, still sparkling, and locked on Thorin. He giggled even harder, his body starting to quake under Thorin’s head. He was half boneless, his mouth spread in a beautiful smile that would have stolen Thorin’s breath away if he’d actually had any.

Instead it made him laugh as well. He had no idea why. He hardly imagined that when he confessed his love for Bilbo they would laugh.

Thorin would quite happily drown in the sound of Bilbo’s laughter.

The hobbit let out a truly indelicate snort and started to pant and giggle himself back to steady breathing. Thorin’s own chuckle was far deeper and more a rumble than anything else, but he liked to think it went well with Bilbo’s. It was funny how much it mirrored who they were. Bilbo was sunlight and growing things while Thorin was metal and rock. Bright and deep. A perfect harmony.

Bilbo finally shook his head, his smile large and unguarded, and bent his head closer to Thorin. The dwarf’s laugh caught in his throat, along with his breath. Bilbo’s hand slid through his hair until it was cupping his cheek and he pressed a light, lingering kiss to his forehead. “Hey you,” he whispered, his breath tickling the dwarf’s skin. Bilbo smiled down at him, his blue- green eyes dark and glittering in the orange light. “I love you too.”

He breathed the three simple words and Thorin very nearly keeled over. He was grateful that he was already reclining because he would have needed to after hearing that. It affected every inch of his body. His legs felt wobbly, his skin tingled, his hands shook, his breath hitched, his heart thumped, and his chest tightened before flooding with a warm liquid that felt like happiness.

It was an almost painful sensation, he felt it so strongly.

There was something incredible and intangible about hearing his Sanzeuh say that he loved Thorin. He found himself cupping Bilbo’s cheek and guiding him down so that he could kiss the hobbit’s lips.

“Sanzeuh...Men az-I love you.” His other hand had found Bilbo’s and he wove the digits between his own. Bilbo’s fluttered when he pressed another tender kiss to his mouth. His fingers worked of their own accord, manipulating Bilbo’s until they were in a sign he’d only ever seen his mother give to him. He pressed the hand to his own chest, over his heart, and marveled at the way it thumped in his chest.

Bilbo was mumbling against his mouth. Senseless words too quiet to hear, but obvious in their sentiment. His hand stroked Thorin’s face and made the skin feel alive with sensations. He had not known he could feel so much at once. It seemed like it could swallow him whole-consume him until their was nothing left but his love for Bilbo. He would lose himself in the inferno of feelings for his hobbit, and he was not certain he minded.

His hobbit kissed across his face, mouthing at his ear while his hand tangled in Thorin’s hair and pulled. Thorin moaned loudly and he was grateful Bilbo couldn’t hear the embarrassing noise. His own hands went to Bilbo’s shirt and started to fumble at the buttons that were constricting him from reaching more of the Burglar’s warm chest.

Bilbo was still mumbling against his skin, but Thorin could understand the words whispered so close to his ear. _I love you, I love you, Thorin. Love You._

He pushed Bilbo’s head where he wanted it and resumed kissing him with gusto. Bilbo gasped against his lips and his entire body quaked. It rubbed against Thorin’s deliciously and brought Thorin’s awareness to Bilbo’s desire. Which was pressing against his lower back, warm and hard and insistent. Thorin shoved Bilbo’s shirt open at the feel and tilted his head. It broke his kiss with Bilbo but he didn’t give the hobbit time to lament the loss. He latched his lips onto the hobbit’s chest and earned a high pitched whine.

A knock on the door broke the perfect moment and Thorin pulled away from Bilbo with a string of the most colorful curses he knew. Bilbo’s eyes widened and he looked momentarily frightened. Thorin breathed deeply twice before he figured out why. The hobbit would not hear the door.

“The door.” He growled, fixing the offending stone with a glare. “Enter!” Balin’s head appeared with a grin.

“You have a meeting with Daín, my king.” His advisors eyes glittered with suppressed mirth and Thorin wanted to scowl. Instead, he pushed himself up off Bilbo’s lap and tried not to glare at Balin too hard.

“Very well. I will be with you in a moment.” Balin gave his head a nod, still grinning, and shut the door. Thorin stood up, stiffly, and stretched out his muscles before turning back to Bilbo who looked upset. It made the happy glow he’d been feeling from the hobbit’s confession dissipate.

“Melekûnel?” Bilbo stood up and wrapped his arms around Thorin’s chest in an unexpected hug. Thorin’s arms automatically wrapped around him in return and held on. Bilbo spoke, just loud enough for Thorin to know it was something about a gift.

“I have to leave, Bilbo.” He brushed a lock of his love’s hair back and let his finger trail down the soft cheek. Bilbo’s skin heated under his touch as a blush stole over his features.

“I have a gift for you.” He pulled something out of his pocket and opened his palm to reveal a small, bronze bead. It was clearly made by a novice, and the hammer strokes were clear in its shaping.

Thorin took it with gentle hands and turned it over in his palm.

“Fíli told me it was customary for dwarf-dames to give their suitors a gift. Usually a bead from some metal they mined. I don’t know how to mine, so I took metal from one of my acorn buttons. Bofur showed me how to shape it.” Bilbo’s fingers wound themselves around a few loose strands of Thorin’s hair. “Would you permit me to braid it into your hair?”

Thorin tilted his head so Bilbo had greater access to his hair. The hobbit’s smile was quick and large and his fingers dug into Thorin’s stands eagerly. He wove them together clumsily and far too loosely to be a good braid. Still, Thorin had never been prouder to wear something in his hair. He gave Bilbo one last kiss, a tender, lingering thing through which Bilbo managed to convey all sorts of promises, and then he left. Balin didn’t stop grinning the entire time they went to meet Dain.

-[]-[]-[]-

Bilbo was acting odd.

Which, considering he was a hobbit and preferred _gardening_ to _mining_ wasn’t saying a lot. Most of what Bilbo did seemed at least a little odd to Thorin and his fellow dwarves. He was obsessed with manners, loved things like crochet more than stone, and adored eating more than any other activity. (Well, almost any other activity.)

No. Bilbo was standing in his garden and he wasn’t paying attention to his plants. Regardless of the fact that the rose bush in front of him was drooping. His head was bent over and his shoulders hunched. He had something in his right hand and he was touching whatever it was with his left hand.

He was completely absorbed in whatever it was. Oblivious to the fact that Thorin was in the room. He even had his back to the entrance. He would have no way of knowing if someone else had entered.

Thorin did not like that. It put him on alert and made him want to hunt down every guard in the kingdom and make them stand watch in front of the garden. Bilbo _had_ to be protected. Even if he wasn’t capable of doing it himself.

Thorin walked nearer to his hobbit, letting his eyes assess his condition. He looked unharmed but Thorin would not take any risks where Bilbo was concerned. Not for anything.

Bilbo's hair was held back by a simple strip of cloth that he'd wound around his head. It was tied clumsily behind his ear and a few curls were caught in the knot. The single ear cuff glinted in the torchlight and it made Thorin's fingers itch to touch.

He needed to adorn Bilbo in more jewels. If only the Burglar didn't have a strange aversion to such things. Thorin would have him clothed in all the finery Erebor had to offer. He would decorate his golden curls with fine gems even though Bilbo’s smile would make them seem dim. He would find stones that were the same color as his eyes and make him bracelets and necklaces that were almost as radiant as his presence. But hobbits disliked such things. Thorin had to content himself with few visible displays of Bilbo’s importance.

Bilbo was still stroking the item in his hand.

Thorin took another step forward and shifted the items in his hands. He didn't clear his throat, despite the natural urge to let Bilbo know he was there in that way. He kept moving forward until he was directly behind his hobbit. Just a few small inches from touching him. He adjusted his gift and lifted his hand to give Bilbo's shoulder a quick tap.

Bilbo's reaction was dramatic. He snarled to the air and rushed forward before spinning on his heel and pointing Sting-which he'd unsheathed in remarkable time-and glaring at Thorin with an intensity he'd never received. He stood still, his left hand still in the air where it had tapped Bilbo's shoulder. He held the hobbit's gift, a bundle of fresh flowers that Dis and Ori had helped him gather, limply in his right hand. Bilbo continued to glare and breathe heavily. He had the hand with the item he'd been stroking clutched to his chest in a tight fist.

"Bilbo?"

"What are you doing here?" Bilbo demanded, his face contorting into a strange mix of mistrust and shame. Thorin took a step back and lowered his hand.

"I came to find you, Mizimel." The endearment rolled off his tongue easily and it once again made him pause at how much Bilbo had change that about him. He was not terribly showy in his affections.  He was reserved and aloof until Bilbo was near. The hobbit just made him want to be tender. "Is everything ok?"

Bilbo's eyes narrowed and Thorin took another step back. He didn't want to frighten Bilbo, but something was clearly wrong. Bilbo was obviously hiding something. That made something hot, unsure, and a little angry bloom in his stomach. "What are you hiding from me?"

"Nothing!" Bilbo exclaimed. He shoved his hand in to his pocket and straightened.

Thorin's hand shook and his heart pounded all the harder in his chest. "You would lie to me and hide? Am I so unintelligent that you think I would not notice the falsehood?" He paused and his gaze dropped to the dirt beneath his feet. "What have I done to lose your trust, my heart?”

A dark voice whispered in his mind that he had never actually had it. He had never and could never actually earn the trust, let alone love, of one such as Bilbo. He had done far too much in his life to receive love. The only way he would know what Bilbo held would be if he took it himself. He was strong, far more so than Bilbo. The hobbit would be unable to resist him.

Thorin took another step back and turned. He needed to leave before he did something to permanently lose any regard the hobbit felt for him.  He would hurt him in his current state if he wasn't careful. Verbally or physically, and Thorin would not allow that. More than anything else, Thorin would not allow himself to harm his Sanzeuh.

He dropped the flowers to the ground. He did not want them and Bilbo clearly would not. They hit the ground with an oddly hollow sound.

It was impossibly hard to move forward. To move away from Bilbo. It felt like he was fighting against the madness that ran through his blood, his longing for the hobbit, his pride as king, and his need to assert his power by making Bilbo show him what he hid. They all tangled together to make a call that he did not want to fight. A sweet summons that promised freedom and power if he only took whatever Bilbo had.

Thorin took another step, and another. It was easier than the last and Thorin felt more free.

He was a handful of feet away from the door when he felt Bilbo's hand on his shoulder. The hobbit tugged him around in his surprise and peered up at him with wide, terrified eyes. The darkness in Thorin purred happily at the sight while the heart of Thorin despaired.

"You have my trust! Please I -don't leave me... Let me explain?" Thorin considered Bilbo for a moment. It should be enough that Bilbo said he trusted him. But Thorin was selfish. He needed to understand. He shook free of Bilbo's hold, noting the look of despair his burglar had as he did so. He took half a step back and then lowered himself to the ground, heedless of the dirt that would now be on his clothes.

“Then speak, Burglar.” Bilbo’s eyes slipped close and his lips dropped in a painful grimace. Thorin wasn’t sure why.

“Burglar.” Bilbo mouthed before sinking down to his knees in front of Thorin. The king didn’t move. He would not allow himself any hope until he knew what Bilbo was hiding from him. It was terrible, judging his current reaction. Bilbo opened his eyes after several long, silent moments and held Thorin’s gaze with his own.

“I never told anyone how I escaped the goblin cave.” He started, his voice low and lost. “I used the distractions to my advantage in that way. I never explained how I managed to avoid the spiders, and move unseen through Thranduil’s kingdom. It wasn’t luck or cunning. It was this.”

Bilbo reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, gold ring. It had no markings and was smooth from touch. It looked heavy in Bilbo’s hand, and was obviously not worth much in the kingdom of Erebor.

And yet…

Thorin’s hand was raised before he quite knew it. He jerked the limb back to himself and frowned at the unassuming gold. Something was not right.


	13. Chapter 13

_But even as hope died in Sam,_   
_or seemed to die, it was turned to new strength._   
_Sam's plain hobbit-face grew stern, almost grim, as the will hardened in him,_   
_and he felt through all his limbs a thrill,_   
_as if he was turning into some creature of stone and steel_   
_that neither despair nor weariness nor endless barren miles could subdue._

_-Tolkien_

* * *

  
  


“I won it from a truly despicable creature in the cavern that I fell into. I bested him in a game of riddles and persuaded it off him.” Bilbo kept his gaze on the Ring in his hand, his voice was slow and steady, almost hypnotic.

Thorin wasn’t sure what to make of what he was saying. “It was just sitting there, unassuming and unspectacular.” Bilbo’s finger reached out to stroke. It was a timid touch that made Thorin jealous and wary. His gut churned. “And _I wanted it_.” Bilbo’s voice darkened and his eyes widened. Thorin hardly recognized his Sanzeuh.

“I won it, it was my right to keep it. I should have kept it. The creature, whose name was Gollum, tried to kill me instead of keeping to the deal. In the chaos I slipped the Ring on my finger and I disappeared.” Bilbo managed to tear his gaze from the Ring, and the strange expression that had stolen over his face disappeared. The madness in his eyes dissipated as the scowl slipped into something far more remorseful.  

“I hid it away because I wanted everyone to think I was clever enough to escape. I wanted you to be proud of my skills… But now, I know I really just wanted it for myself.” His eyes flickered, as if he wanted to look at the Ring but couldn’t. Thorin could not remove his own gaze from Bilbo’s. There was something very wrong.

“Then the wargs happened and I forgot about the Ring for a time. When we got to Mirkwood I couldn’t tell Gandalf about it. We slipped into the forest and I took comfort in this.” He lifted his hand the slightest bit and Thorin saw his hand tremble. He yearned to comfort the hobbit. To wrap him up and rid him of whatever hold the Ring had on him. The Ring that should not be so distracting and was clearly magical.

The Ring he could almost hear calling.

“We-we got lost, as you remember, and I despaired. It was so heavy in the forest. I thought I would be unable to move. The spiders attacked and I slipped it on my hand to disappear and free all of you.” Bilbo shuddered and a broken whimper fell from his lips. Thorin’s body jerked in an aborted attempt to move closer to his beloved. He needed to comfort Bilbo, felt the urge deep in his bones, but he wasn’t sure Bilbo would want the touch. He wasn’t sure about the dark voice murmuring in his ear either. It wanted the Ring for itself.

“I started doing things, Thorin.” Bilbo choked on the words and tears splashed down his face. He was curled more in on himself and Thorin could no longer hold himself back. He didn’t know what the deal with the Ring was but he would not be tempted by it. Not while his Sanzeuh was in such obvious pain. Thorin went to Bilbo’s side, careful to avoid touching the hand holding the Ring, and wrapped him in a strong embrace. He tugged Bilbo back until he was pressed against his chest and lowered his head so that his cheek was pressed against the top of Bilbo’s hair. He wrapped as much of his hobbit in his arms as he could. Bilbo shuddered in his hold and pressed back against him. He burrowed deeper into Thorin’s arms and continued to cry loudly.

“I _killed_ helpless baby spiders violently, and I enjoyed it. I didn’t think about anything but retrieving the Ring. I lied to everyone and hid it like something shameful. And it’s starting to _consume_ my thoughts.” Bilbo hiccuped and shoved his head further under Thorin’s neck, making the dwarf’s head push back. He tightened his grip and Bilbo’s cries grew louder.

He wept openly, and loudly, and each beat of Thorin’s heart felt like he was being stabbed anew. “I tried not to use it but it keeps calling me back. I don’t know what it is or why it has such power but-” He cut off abruptly and though Thorin could feel his lips moving Thorin couldn’t hear any words actually being spoken.

A deep, burning hate rose up from his guts, through his chest, and up his throat till he thought he would choke from the force of it.

Whatever that Ring was, whatever it promised, it was evil. It had taken his hobbit, his beautiful, joyful, life-glowing hobbit, and broken him. It caused him to weep in utter abandon and would seek to separate Thorin and Bilbo.

Thorin had made a vow on the battle field that he would let no madness ever do that again. Regardless of the cost, Thorin would not let this… trinket do what insanity had tried to do. He had beaten the curse of his grandfather. He would do the same here. His hand found Bilbo’s wrist and he stroke the bracelet that still resided on it. It was a visible oath of the debt he owed Bilbo, an a promise he would never again break. He renewed them now.

He spoke the promises into Bilbo’s hair. His hobbit would not be able to hear the words, or understand what he was saying, but that didn’t matter. Thorin was making the promises to the world. To all the powers that would attempt to dominate them. He swore by his life and blood that he would defend Bilbo against all and that he would follow him wherever destiny took him.

“If-if you want it… I will give it to you.” Bilbo mumbled, no longer shaking so hard. Thorin’s body reacted immediately to the words, in two very different ways. His blood ran utterly cold under his skin, and his heart raced. His breath caught in his throat and he feared he would vomit for a moment, while his hands trembled and adrenaline flooded his system.

_Yes. It should be yours. You could wield it far better than him. You are stronger. It would listen to you. Imagine the power._

Thorin forced a breath and closed his eyes. His body shook. He could imagine the gold glinting in the torchlight and imagined how smooth it would feel under his hand. Bilbo offered it to him freely. With this magical Ring he could strengthen Erebor.

Thorin forced his eyes open and gave his head a hard shake. He exhaled and shook his head again. It was easier to do this time so he tried it once more.

“No.”

The syllable rang out in the silent air with a intangible power that made Thorin’s skin feel shivery. He felt oddly drained, like he had just fought an enormous battle even though he had never stood. He needed to rest. He imagined even the nightmares would not be able to keep him from sleep this time.

Thorin pushed Bilbo away just enough so that the hobbit could see his lips. “No, Sanzeuh.” Bilbo looked both relieved and pained. Thorin was tempted to take the Ring to make the hurt go away.

He didn’t.

“No. We will put this Ring into our private safe. I will send for Gandalf and see what he knows of it. Do not let it burden you, Bilbo.” He lifted his hand pass Bilbo’s open one, and cupped his cheek. He brushed the tears staining the Burglar’s cheeks away and kissed him on the brow. “Do not despair, my love. We will see you through whatever this is.” He pressed another kiss to his brow, letting his lips linger against Bilbo’s skin. “ Thank you for trusting me.”

Bilbo slumped in Thorin’s hold, looking about as drained as Thorin felt. He slipped the Ring back into his pocket with clumsy fingers before wrapping his arms around Thorin’s neck. His hand felt oddly cold.

Thorin sat still for several long moments before he managed to gather the energy to stand. He scooped Bilbo upped and held him close. He wouldn’t carry Bilbo to their room, but there was no reason he could not enjoy the nearness for a moment before he gave him up. Bilbo mumbled against his neck and Thorin let him slip to the ground. He took the hobbit’s hand in his own and smiled down at him.

Bilbo managed to return the smile, and a bit of the despair on his face seemed to wash away. He squeezed Thorin’s hand and, together, they left the garden behind for their own chambers.

-[]-[]-[]-

It was harder than Thorin would have thought to get the Ring in the safe. Bilbo fought a fierce inner battle that he was helpless to aid in. Whatever power the Ring had over Bilbo, Thorin would not interfere. He did not trust himself. Bilbo was, and would be, his priority. If his hobbit kept the Ring or discarded it, Thorin would not push him.

He did not left him know the code to get into the safe though. Bilbo asked for it almost immediately but on that Thorin would not relent.

He had Ori send out summons for Gandalf by the twelve fastest ravens. He put very little in the missives, save to tell Gandalf that Bilbo’s well being was fully dependant on his timely arrival. He was uncertain of what the Ring was, so he did not wish of any other to know of it’s existence.

And court life continued. Thorin announced to the council and kingdom that he would marry Bilbo on Durin’s day (it seemed only appropriate) and took the reactions in stride. Most of the kingdom was happy, Bilbo was well liked and kind. He made Thorin happy and that was all they apparently needed. There were, of course, those who were blind and ignorant and felt that Bilbo was not good enough. Thorin had to resist the urge to show them the error of their ways. With his sword.

Oddly enough his relationship with Bilbo improved. His raging jealousy seemed to lessen with the Ring locked in the safe. He had less of a desire to assert the fact that Bilbo was his.

He felt in control again.

Thorin hadn’t truly felt in control for a long time. He was always being controlled or manipulated by someone for something and even his emotions were not always his.

Yet he was still uncertain how far he could trust himself where Bilbo was concerned. His love for the hobbit was constant and consuming, and his desire for Bilbo was as well.

He was scared to act on the desires of his heart and flesh less he lose control.  Less he harm Bilbo. His thoughts had often been dark of late, and he didn't want to risk Bilbo to that darkness.

And the hobbit was constantly tempting him. He seemed to know of Thorin's every weakness and he exploited them without mercy when they were alone in the darkness their bed provided.

While the dark hours were delightful, they always left him wanting so much more. He would wake tense and anxious and wanting so much that he'd have to flee their bed.

And still there was no word from the Wizard.

The first of April was greeted with a feast. It marked a year since they'd set out to reclaim Erebor. Sometimes it still felt like it couldn't be real. There were dwarves from each of the dwarf kingdoms. It was an extremely good turn out, actually. It made Thorin proud and touched that so many would come to honor Erebor.

There was endless mingling, and introductions. Bilbo had to be introduce to everyone as the King’s Consort to be and it was clear the Hobbit was getting tired of it.

“Why don’t you try a dance?” Thorin asked after the twentieth introduction. He held his hand out to the Hobbit and Bilbo beamed.

“That would be delightful!” He turned and stared around the grand hall before spotting Bofur. He grinned and took off towards him. Thorin watched him go with wide eyes and a heart that seemed to stop beating. Bilbo went to Bofur and tapped him on the shoulder and Thorin took a small step back. He let himself get lost in the crowd of dwarves and tried not to think about his hobbit dancing with someone else.

He hadn’t even waited to see if Thorin could dance. He hadn’t even asked him if he would like to. He’d gone to Bofur.

Why Bofur?

Thorin felt an anger start to bubble in his stomach. He should not have allowed Bilbo to room with Bofur. What had happened while they roomed? The miner spent a lot of time with his Sanzeuh…

No. He would not let the jealousy start. He would not give it the power. He turned back and looked at the crowd. Bilbo was laughing at whatever Bofur was saying, and Bifur had joined them. They looked like quite a contented trio. It made Thorin wish to join them. It would be delightful to not have to be royal for  one night. To be allowed to stand in the back and just laugh without worry with his friends.

He felt lonely and oddly dejected.

Bofur passed his goblet to Bifur, who tilted its contents on the floor, and grabbed Bilbo’s hand. He spun him around in a overly exaggerated spin and Thorin’s heart beat painfully in his breast. His hand shook faintly by his side, and his head ached. His limbs felt heavy and it seemed impossible to stand still or move.

Bilbo laughed again and Thorin could not stand still. The jealousy was low in his stomach and wanted to rise up.

He passed his goblet to a servant and slipped away from the other dwarves. He found a quiet niche blocked by curtains, that was empty, and went inside. The dark was soothing and it was far quieter than the hall. He felt like he could breath again.

It might have been that he couldn’t see or hear Bilbo with someone else.

He stood still for an endless time, focusing only on his breathing and the steady beating of his heart. The anger, annoyance, hurt, and longing slowly ebbed away and left him feeling like he could move again.

“This is cozy.”

Thorin turned on the spot to see Bilbo staring at him with a cocked head. The emotions that had nearly faded rose again. His hand trembled. “I did not expect to see you again, so soon.”

“Hmm?” Bilbo trailed his fingers over the curtain. It was oddly attractive and made Thorin swallow hard. He didn’t understand himself.

“I thought you would spend the rest of the evening in family Ur’s company.” The hobbit paused and his hand slipped down the silky, blue material of the curtain as he turned his body to face the King. His hair glinted faintly in the dark.

“Why Thorin, are you jealous?” Bilbo’s voice was laced with laughter. It made Thorin’s body tense.

“Is that so surprising?” He let his voice sound petulant because it would have no repercussions. It was relieving to have some of his annoyance and anger released.

“For you?” Bilbo’s grin broadened and stepped forward, smiling with a flutter of his eyes. He was flirting. He had just danced with another dwarf and he flirted with Thorin?

“I have tried to control it.” Thorin hardly said the words. They seemed pointless. It was evident that he was failing. He had no more control than a child. He was a mess of emotions and thoughts that he didn’t even understand and it affected _everything._

“Not well.” And Bilbo’s smile grew even wider. “You can’t seem to look at anything else. Why should I not dance with Bofur?”

“Hobbit,” Thorin growled, his voice low and threatening. Any who heard it would know not to cross him. It was only that Bilbo was deaf that he didn’t cringe. He used his body to convey what his voice could not. He stood taller and broadened his shoulders so that he dwarfed the hobbit with his size and dominance. “You would do well not to test me on this. Do not attempt to provoke me. I will not share you.”

Bilbo’s eyes lit with challenge. “I find it amusing that you think you could stop me.”

“You do not understand the fire you are messing with.” Thorin ground out. His voice was so hard it actually hurt his throat. So much for control. Bilbo was winning whatever it was he was trying.

“I faced Smaug. Your fire is not terribly threatening.” Thorin flinched, he tried to mask it but Bilbo’s eyes widened and Thorin knew the hobbit had spied his gut reaction to the dragon’s name. The beast was responsible for what had occurred to his kingdom, and to Bilbo. And Thorin had made him face the beast. It was his fault that the hobbit could not hear his tone. He didn’t want to ever remind Bilbo of the terrible monster. Even inadvertently.

It would be his eternal shame.

“Thorin,” Bilbo’s hand landed on his arm and Thorin carefully masked his features behind indifference. He would not succumb to whatever his feelings were. Whatever it was that was churning in his chest would not control him. If Bilbo wanted to dance with Bofur, then Thorin would allow it. He would not care if it was against dwarvish customs for someone in a courtship to dance with anyone  but their intended. Thorin would save himself, but he would not hold Bilbo to his customs. He had already been to hard on him. He had forced endless Dwarvish traditions on Bilbo and rarely checked with his own traditions.

“Dance with whomever you please, dear one. I will hinder you no longer.” He inclined his head graciously before sweeping out of the niche and back to the rest of the gathering. It didn’t look like anyone had noticed his absence. He went to Fíli’s side and closed his weary eyes.

“Uncle?” Thorin gave his head a tired shake.

“I am well, nephew. What have you seen?”

“That Nikabrik has the favor of quite a few dwarves.” Fíli replied, instantly alert. It made Thorin proud to think of him as his air. He was stronger than he was ever credited for. “And he has disappeared three times tonight. He comes back looking greyer each time.”

“Indeed?” Bilbo emerged from the niche looking furious. He glared in Thorin’s direction before exiting the hall. Glóin followed him out with two other guards. Thorin’s shoulders relaxed slightly. He could handle Bilbo's anger, it wasn't the first time Bilbo had been angry at him. Knowing the hobbit was protected was far more important. He forced himself to focus on the evening. He would face Bilbo, the Ring, and the rest of his problems later.

He ignored the quiet voice that said it wouldn't work.


	14. Chapter 14

Someone was following Thorin. Someone actually had the _nerve_ to follow Thorin, and actually thought he would not notice.

And they chose the wrong time to do so. His shoulders, neck, and back, hurt. He was tired and really just wanted to lie down in his bed and forget the long day.

The only problem was that the hall was empty. Save for Thorin himself, there was no one else to be seen.

He should have asked Dwalin to accompany him instead of dismissing his friend for the night. It would have been selfish, of course. Ori was waiting for the dwarf who didn’t have to worry about things like control and evil Rings and gold lust. Balin had escorted Dís back to her chambers, and his nephews had both disappeared shortly after Bilbo.

He couldn’t explain what it was, or why it was, but something was in the hall that should not be. The skin on the back of his neck tingled, and he was aware of his entire body in the horribly uncomfortable way that only happened when he was being observed.

And years of unfortunate events had taught him to always trust that instinct.

Still, there was no one in the halls. There were no shadows to hide in, no statues to take refuge behind, and no curtains to duck under. He was on a walkway that was several hundred feet up, and there was simply no way to conceal oneself.

Unless the observer had Bilbo’s Ring. That was impossible though. Only Thorin knew the combination to unlock it. Whatever the Ring was, Thorin didn’t think there were any more just floating around. He could vaguely remember his grandfather’s ring-one of the original seven-and it had been nothing like that one.

He trudged on to his room with his hand on his hilt. Invisible enemy or not, Thorin would not be caught off guard.

It was strange how long the halls seemed whenever he was alone. They dragged on, perpetually stretching as far as he could see until it was engulfed in darkness even dwarf eyes could not see through. It was unsettling, and reminded him of how far they had to go to make Erebor safe and beautiful again. Erebor of old had never been dark. At night she had shone with the light of the stars and moon.

He was exhausted. Utterly exhausted, again. Fighting with Bilbo drained him more than anything else. He just needed to sleep.

He no longer woke up in the middle of the night feeling like he would crawl out of his skin, but he still woke up. No drugs, whatever they were, granted him a full night sleep. Bilbo’s warmth and constant presence would lull him back to sleep but it didn’t keep him asleep.

He had a feeling the nightmares would return with a vengeance if the halfling left him.

A faint ‘tick, tack’ echoed around the empty halls. A sound like a pebble falling along a stone path. He swept his gaze behind him but once again could see nothing. The sound reverberated through the strange stillness of the night with woeful intent and Thorin shivered.

Something so simple should not be so ominous.

He quickened his step, pretending he did not do so out of unease but in haste to make amends with Bilbo. Who was hopefully waiting in their chambers. Not with a glare. Thorin hardly had the energy to walk, let alone argue.

The noise occurred again and Thorin tugged Orcrist slightly out of her scabbard. She wasn’t glowing, which was reassuring. He still despised elves, but that was an extremely handy warning system.

The hall split ahead, and Thorin gratefully took the path to the right. His chambers were directly ahead, and the guard was still at attention.

“Froir.” Thorin greeted with a nod. The ginger dwarf grinned and stepped aside so Thorin could enter.

“Your consort is inside.” That was good news. At least he would have a chance of sleeping with the hobbit in his arms. “Was there a problem, my King?” Froir’s eyes were on Orcrist and Thorin was mildly impressed with his observation. Most dwarves were too stunned by who he was to really look.

“I felt as though I was being followed in the last hall but there was no one there. Still, prudence seemed the better course.”

“I will be alert, milord.”

Thorin inclined his head again and went into his chambers. The fire was lit and the room warm but no hobbit was visible. He deposited his cloak on the chair along with his ceremonial armor but kept Orcrist buckled to his side. The sword would be set by his bed. He barred the door and checked that the safe was still locked tight.

Thorin paused at the door to his chamber and let his hand rest against it. Bilbo would be on the other side, and Mahal’s mercy, he did not wish a fight.

There was nothing to be gained standing behind the door.

He pushed it open and stood still for a moment. No sound came from the room so he stepped forward into it.

_“Thorin.”_ Bilbo’s voice was quiet, earnest, and coming from the left. Thorin turned his head right as the hobbit collided with him, and he was very nearly knocked over. Bilbo’s hands dove under his surcoat and wrapped tightly around his back. His legs tangled between Thorin’s and he almost slipped from the way he scrambled to get closer. He spoke in a whispery voice that Thorin could not understand and he would not stand still long enough for the dwarf to wrap him up.

Instead, Thorin was pushed against the wall with a shaking, clingy hobbit on top of him. Wet, salty, lips found his and kissed him hard. Not pleasantly. Their teeth clacked and Thorin vaguely thought he tasted blood as Bilbo continued to attack him.

Bilbo was distraught and Thorin needed to breathe. He freed his hand and wrapped it around Bilbo’s shoulder. He steadied his feet and then used his strength to his advantage. He pushed Bilbo away and looked at him.

The hobbit’s hair was a stringy mess, making it obvious that he’d been tugging on it. There was a partially  made braid with one of Thorin’s beads clumsily clasped around it. His lip was cut and a smear of blood was on his chin.

What stood out the most to Thorin’s eyes, was the redness in Bilbo’s. His hobbit had been crying?

Thorin scooped him up and carried him to the bed. He deposited him on it gently. He cupped the hobbit’s cheeks and pressed a tender kiss to his brow before drawing back enough so Bilbo could read his lips. “Allow me a moment, Mimizel.” He slipped off his surcoat and then took off his boots. He set Orcrist by his side and slipped onto the bed next to Bilbo who was watching him with worried eyes. He was no longer manic, but Thorin wanted the sadness completely gone.

His lips still tingled from the greeting Bilbo had given him.

“I didn’t know.” He blurted out when Thorin settled against the pillows. It was loud enough to hear now. A bit too loud for their being the only ones in the room, but Thorin hardly minded.

_-Know what?-_ Thorin signed back. He would not risk Bilbo not understanding something tonight. Bilbo was an astounding lip reader-thanks to whatever charm Gandalf had cast on him-but he could still misread or completely miss. Thorin was currently confused enough for the both of them.

“That dancing with anyone else during a courtship was tantamount to saying you weren’t enough.”

_-Gl_ ó _in?-_ Bilbo nodded his head and dropped his gaze to the blanket. He traced the design shaved into the top fur with absent fingers.

“I was trying to get you to dance with me. For hobbits, dancing is part of courtship. If our suitor sees us dancing with someone else they come over and dance with us. Asking three times is a display of extreme affection.”

- _I did not know. I would have asked a dozen times, beloved.-_ Bilbo grinned falteringly but didn’t look Thorin in the eyes. - _You were right earlier. I could not look at anyone else. I am always aware of where you are.-_

“I should have asked. I know how much... _trouble_ you’ve had with your… jealousy?”

Thorin raised his eyebrow. Jealousy was putting it mildly. He had a constant need to posses this hobbit that could not be normal. He feared it was his madness showing itself. He feared it was evidence of the curse of his line and the all consuming gold lust that had taken him. Bilbo had done a splendid job of not provoking it up to now. - _That was a dangerous game.-_

Bilbo finally met his gaze. “I wanted you to drag me away in a fiery passion.”

It was amazing how the atmosphere could change so quickly. Thorin’s blood warmed and his heart rate sped up. It was an...interesting image. “I wanted you to push me into that little niche and proceed to rip my clothes off. I wanted you to press me against a wall and take me right there. Where anyone could see or hear us. I wanted you to make me scream with abandon and fight to keep the sounds to myself.”

Bilbo’s knee brushed against Thorin’s thigh. He hadn’t noticed him moving. He felt too warm.

Bilbo’s kiss was unexpected, but very welcome. He deepened it and pressed his fingers into the hobbit’s silky curls. His ring finger brushed against _his_ bead and he growled into the kiss. Bilbo was the first to tear away, gasping for breath and very prettily flushed.

It was amazing how quickly he could stop being tired.

“I don’t want to push you into something you’re not ready for, but I’m ready. I trust you.” Bilbo swallowed thickly, his eyes locked on the bit of Thorin’s chest that was showing from his unbuttoned shirt. It was extremely satisfying to have the hobbit’s attention. “And you have an unreasonable amount of self control. You’ve very nearly had me screaming in frustration several times, and I’m the one doing the teasing.”

Thorin had fully been expecting a fight when he walked into his chambers. He had expected Bilbo to be angry at his jealousy. He had expected to have to beg the hobbit to remain in his room. Instead he had an apologetic hobbit that wanted Thorin. Completely.

And, as always, Thorin was helpless to deny Bilbo anything he truly wanted.

Thorin pulled on Bilbo’s hips until he had the hobbit in his lap with a leg on either side. He kissed the Burglar’s lips again and grinned at the way Bilbo squirmed closer. The hobbit’s hand fisted in his hair, his nails scratching against Thorin’s scalp. He could already feel his apparently unreasonable control slipping. Bilbo continued to shift and squirm against him and just kissing the hobbit’s lips was not enough.

He had not let his frustrations out earlier. He had let Bilbo walk away. Bilbo had proven to him that he was stronger than whatever jealousy he felt. That he could control himself when he was unaware of it. How much more would he be able to manage when he was aware? He had the control.

It was time to use it.

His lips moved to Bilbo’s neck and the hobbit let out a stuttering moan that could be felt through his entire body. His skin was soft and warm and slightly salty. It was a taste that Thorin was already addicted to, and now he feasted on it. Bilbo’s head tilted back in open offering and Thorin accepted it happily. He peeled off the Burglar’s overcoat with his hands and Bilbo shrugged it off impatiently. His fingers made quick, familiar work of the buttoned up shirt and it followed the overcoat to the floor. The hobbit’s hands returned to grab his hair and Thorin’s eyes slipped shut in bliss.

“Bilbo,” his voice was deep, claiming and earnest. Bilbo shuddered against him before freeing one hand from Thorin’s dark locks and pawing at the clasps that held Thorin's shirt in place. He fumbled with the contraptions for a moment, Thorin continued to taste his neck and file away the noises it made Bilbo release, before the hobbit pushed him away.

“Off. Make this all come off. How do you even get in this by yourself?” Bilbo tugged at the clasps with a pout that was so pronounced it made Thorin chuckle.

He never thought he would be one to laugh in intimate situations. It seemed right with Bilbo though.

“With practice, Melekûnel.” He slipped his hand between their chest and set to removing the clasp with practiced ease. Bilbo watched him eagerly and it made something excited surge up in Thorin’s chest. His hobbit wanted to see more of him. He found Thorin as desirable as Thorin found him. The dwarf’s blood burned at the thought and he was no longer satisfied just having Bilbo on his lap. He laid the hobbit down and moved atop of him. Bilbo’s thighs spread so Thorin could settle between them and his eyes danced with excitement. Thorin lowered his head to kiss the hobbit’s shoulder while he rid himself of his shirt.

Bilbo’s hands ran over his exposed body with intent and his touch burned like a brand on Thorin’s skin. Bilbo was claiming him with his touch, and encouraging Thorin to do the same.

"I'd like you on top this time." Bilbo pressed a finger to Thorin's lips before he could object. "I know you don't trust yourself to take me." The hobbit leaned closer with a wicked smile. "However I do trust you. So let's move this along."

The hobbit’s hands found their way to Thorin’s breeches as they kissed and started to work at the leather that held them up and closed. His hand slipped down, brushing over Thorin’s arousal and he had to break the kiss. He rested his forehead against Bilbo’s and moaned brokenly. His hips pressed into Bilbo’s hands, which kept working at the binding. Bilbo’s breath panted across his face, making him shiver in more ways. The hobbit finally managed to open his breeches and slipped his hand inside to better get Thorin out of them. His knuckles brushed against Thorin’s length and his entire body shuddered at the innocent touch.

His own hands worked at Bilbo’s trousers, hardly aware of what they were doing. Bilbo, far more aware, lifted his hips in help. Thorin tugged them down and off and pressed Bilbo back into the bed.

Mahal’s beard, Bilbo would never stop looking enticing like that. All spread out, flushed, and ready for _Thorin’s_ attentions. He attended to the chest presented before him with kisses, nips, and long licks and he could not do anything but grin.

Bilbo was vocal. It was funny really, and something Thorin would have never expected. Bilbo never stopped talking any time they became intimate. He lost whatever filter was between his thoughts and mouth and just spoke to the air.

Thorin suspected the hobbit was unaware of it.

More, ungh, yes, and Thorin, were primarily what Bilbo mumbled, breathed, and shouted into the air but it all made Thorin’s skin burn with desire.

He worked down to Bilbo’s thighs as quickly as he could, and then his brain promptly shorted out.

Bilbo was already prepared. Thorin recognized the scent of his blade oil, and Bilbo pushed the bottle into his hand with an impatient whine. Thorin took it automatically, but he simply held it. His brain hadn’t quite got around the fact that Bilbo had fingered himself at some point after he left the feast in anticipation of Thorin arriving.

He wanted to see it sometime. Watch Bilbo rocking on his hand, his head pressed back into the pillow and his neck stretched. He’d be taut and moaning who- knew- what into the air.

Bilbo’s hand closed over his own erection and covered him in the oil with quick, sure, strokes that had Thorin moaning into the air and bucking his hips. Bilbo turned over on his stomach in anticipation.

“Move! For the love of Eru you have kept me waiting _forever._ I want you. Didn't I tell you to move this along?” Bilbo groaned into the pillow, his hips squirming against the fur in anticipation. They should really remove it so that they wouldn’t have to clean it later but that would involve leaving Bilbo and was therefore not a real option. Instead, Thorin pressed his body over Bilbo’s instead. He relished the gasp that fell from Bilbo’s lips as his furred chest rubbed against Bilbo’s (oddly) hairless back. He lined up, listening to Bilbo urging him on with breathy pleas, and pressed in slowly.

Mahal. It had been a _long_ time since he had done this. Never with someone like Bilbo. Someone that made him laugh and love and someone he wanted to climb on top of and take and be taken by and cuddle-

Bilbo moaned loudly and the sound mingled with Thorin’s own. The tight heat was all consuming and intense and it took all of his control not to thrust wildly. He stopped once he was fully in and pressed his cheek against Bilbo’s shoulder. He held himself up with one arm and wrapped the other around Bilbo’s middle while he focused on breathing steadily and not thinking about the way Bilbo was so perfect around him.

His mind was little more than a cool rush. There was no need to dominate Bilbo, and no urge to mark him. He just felt a deep love-one that was never far-and a desire to merge with the hobbit. He was still in control.

After several long moments Bilbo’s hand settled on top of his and the hobbit wove their fingers together before telling him to move. Thorin drew back slowly, savoring the feel, and pressed back in, earning a gasp from Bilbo. He adjusted their stance slightly and set up a slow pace, steadily rolling his hips into Bilbo. His hobbit moaned openly and continually moved his mouth, broken words pouring out occasionally.

He could feel each of Bilbo’s breaths and shudders as they moved together. Their pleasure built slowly, unrushed and it was nothing like Thorin though joining with Bilbo would be.

He didn’t feel the need to claim. He already had Bilbo’s heart, and his own heart was very safe in the hobbit’s possession. He was content to simply be with Bilbo. He didn’t need to mark him or make him scream. The slow movements were perfect. Learning every inch of Bilbo’s body, feeling his every reaction and hearing his every sigh was all Thorin wanted. _And he could do it._

It was an almost languid pace and he didn’t need to change it. There was no darkness in his mind.

“Yes, Eru! There!” Bilbo nearly howled when he adjusted the angle. It made him grin and he had the strangest urge to laugh. It was like a living thing, the joy bubbling up in his chest. He could be with Bilbo without endangering him.

The darkness was at bay. It had no control of this. Of him. Here and now it didn’t have an affect.

He thrust in a bit quicker, and harder, and Bilbo’s moans were loud and sweeter than honey. His hand released the hobbit’s chest to wrap around his cock instead and he stroked him in a counterpoint to his thrust. Bilbo’s fingers tightened around his, the nails digging into the fur. He rocked back against him harder and his toes curled against the fur as he urged Thorin on.

Thorin’s own chest was tight with coiled tension and pleasure. Bilbo was all he was aware of. He was underneath him and around him. He was so warm, his skin so soft, his spirit so strong, and his body so enticing that Thorin just really didn’t have words to explain.

He wanted to watch him come completely apart.

Thorin stroked Bilbo faster and let himself thrust into the hobbit’s willing body harder. They moved together for an endless time, and then Bilbo keened and his entire body bucked. He tossed his head back, baring his neck enticingly, and bellowed _Thorin’s_ name out as he came. Thorin chased after his own release with sharp, quick thrust. He squeezed Bilbo closer and, then it was only, one, two, three more thrust. He buried himself as deeply in his _lover_ as he could and bit down on the offered neck in an attempt to stifle his bellow as he climaxed. Bilbo shuddered underneath him again.

He held still for a moment, panting into Bilbo’s skin, before he pulled away. He set Bilbo down on his side and pressed a long kiss to the hobbit’s still panting lips. His hands stroked gently along his Burglar’s back as they both calmed down and settled in for the night. He kicked the outer, messy, fur off the bed and sliped the other one over their bodies after he quickly cleaned Bilbo off.

He tucked Bilbo in close to his chest and smiled at the way the hobbit settled his head over Thorin’s heart. He liked to feel the beating of his heart and the slow rhythm of his breathing. Thorin bent his own head over Bilbo’s and nuzzled it. He closed his eyes and spoke to the hobbit, whispering all the things he never seemed to be able to say out loud into Bilbo’s hair.

For once, he didn’t need any replies.

-[]-[]-[]-

Morning came too quickly, and far too brightly. He was poked awake by an insistent finger that kept prodding regardless of how many times he swatted at it.

“Yes, yes. Mahal! I’m up.” He pried his eyes open to see Bilbo peering down at him. He had a tray of tea and scones and a devilish grin.

“Majesty, you have half an hour before you appear before the court. You might want to hurry with the breakfast.” Thorin closed his eyes and stretched with a groan. He’d woken in the middle of the night, as expected, but he had fallen back asleep faster than ever before. He’d almost slept the whole night through.

It felt like a blessing.

“I will warn you that I’m starving as I had a fairly active night. I might not leave you any. My generosity only last so long.” Thorin popped one of his eyes back open to see Bilbo daintily nibbling the tip of a scone. He winked and popped half of it in his mouth. He chewed it with a large grin and Thorin felt his own lips lift in response to the smile. He pushed himself up properly and helped himself to half of the breakfast.

“Thank you, Mimizel.”

“What does that mean?”

“Jewel of all jewels.” Thorin sipped at his tea to hide his smile at Bilbo’s blush. They finished their breakfast swiftly and then Thorin rose to dress while Bilbo put the trays away. He had just pulled on his braies and Tunic when Bilbo tugged on his shoulder. He turned him around, stood on his tip toes, and promptly bit into the spot where Thorin’s neck connected to his shoulder. He gasped in surprise and Bilbo sucked on the skin. He nipped and licked and sucked until the skin stung, and then he waltzed away with a satisfied nod.

Thorin brought his hand to his neck and felt the area. “Bilbo?” He asked out loud, knowing the hobbit wouldn’t hear him. Bilbo tugged off his nightshirt and replaced it with a button up shirt and Thorin saw an angry mark on his neck where Thorin had accidentally bit him last night. Thorin now bore a matching mark on his neck.

He dropped his hand and laughed again. He would never stop being amazed by this wonderful hobbit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... My electricity has once again gone out. Duke Power is getting tired of my calls. Thank God for friends who will let me bum on their couches. :) Enjoy the update!


	15. Chapter 15

Bilbo hated rude behaviour. It was something that had led to a lot of problems with his initial encounters with the dwarves. He hated the lack of manners and the general loudness and lack of decor. He’d learned later that it was a simple cultural difference and that Bilbo himself had behaved quite rudely to their kind.

The Hobbit in Bilbo didn’t know what to do with rude behaviour. It was something they were simply not equipped to handle. He’d managed to break out of his shock a little when the dwarves would misbehave, but he still had a difficult time just confronting rudeness.

Right now he was attempting to prune a plant that Bofur had found at the foot of the mountain. It had adapted to it’s new home quite well, and was the first plant to have been brought in. A tall dwarf (taller than Dwalin even) was standing in front of him and had (rudely) ordered that Bilbo accompany him. He’d demanded that Bilbo drop the ‘ugly and useless pile of thorns’ and follow him out to the main gate.

Bilbo continued right on pruning the little plant. The giant of a dwarf could just wait until he was finished if he was going to be _rude_. He might even examine the other sprouts while he was at it. He could also water all Oin’s plants and unpack the fertilizer after that. He leaned around  the plant and considered it from another angle before nodding his head and picking a few more dead leaves from it’s base.

And then there was a fist shoved under his face and the fingers _were snapping at him_.

Bilbo spluttered in shock and outright anger. Who in Middle Earth did this dwarf think he was? Hobbit or not Bilbo was not about to be _snapped_ at.

He stood up and squared his shoulders, never mind he was barely three and a half feet tall while the dwarf was at least four and a half feet tall. He had had enough of the disrespect. Yes he was a hobbit, yes he was deaf, yes he had made choices that might not have been the best, but at the time there hadn’t been a lot he could do. None of that was any reason to snap at him like he was some dog.

He was the king’s consort to be! He had _power_.

Besides. Bilbo was _deaf_ he couldn’t hear the snaps any more than he could hear the tapping foot or growling. It was just blatant rudeness and thoughtlessness.

“What do you want?” He demanded and he desperately hoped he was shouting. He put as much into the words as he could but there was simply no way for him to know how loud he was being.

The dwarf took a half step back which made Bilbo feel better. “I told you. Come with me to the gates.”

“And I told you I would be along as soon as the plant was tended. Now, if you will just wait outside I’ll be along in a moment.”

The dwarf’s eyes narrowed and he took a slow, deliberate step forward. He nearly stepped on the plant. Bilbo shifted his hoe to his other hand and wondered how much trouble he would be in if he simply hit the dwarf with it. “You are wanted at the gates now, insolent child.”

Bilbo hadn’t known he could get more annoyed. He very nearly saw red. “How dare you!”  He hoped he was shouting. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

“The king’s pet?”

Bilbo took a stumbling step back in shock. His mouth dropped open in surprise and he very nearly dropped his hoe. “What is your name?”

“Will you not come with me?”

Bilbo raised his eyebrow. He had the nerve to ask? “No.”

The hand came out of nowhere. It cracked against his skin with iron force and made Bilbo’s head snap to the side. He staggered a step and then slipped. His vision grew hazy and he slipped into darkness.

-[]-[]-[]-

Thorin could find no other word for the burning in his veins than _rage_. Fierce, consuming, unthinking rage. His hobbit, his beautiful, funny, clever, precious hobbit had been attacked in his garden.

Bilbo had been hurt again.

Part of him was angry at the hobbit. He’d left his guard to tend his garden. The guard should have known where he was.

Most of him was furious at the dwarf that had dared to hit his _consort_. Official or not, Bilbo was not to be touched by anyone but Thorin himself without express permission. To go so far as to hurt him… The dwarf would wish that he had not been born before Thorin was done with him.

He had managed to make the entire kingdom outraged. Even dwarves who had been unsure about Bilbo were crying for the attackers blood. His name was Mikha and he had been a guard. He would not be much of anything by the time Thorin was done with him.

It was only thanks to Ori that Bilbo was even safe. Mahal only knew what the Mikha would have done if he had not arrived at the garden. Thorin could not think of a high enough honor to bestow to the scribe for what he had done.

Thorin was storming down the halls right now. Dwarves were scurrying out of his way at the obvious anger that was radiating from him. Dwalin and Nori were at his side. The ‘prison’ was directly ahead. It was actually a former treasure vault that they had repurposed until they could finish reconstruction on the actual cells

Nobody had spoken a word since Thorin had received news of Bilbo’s fate. They were staying as far away as possible. Thorin was glad of the lack of contact. He wasn’t capable of not verbally assaulting anyone who dared to come near.

“Is he in there?” Dwalin demanded of the guard keeping watch over the prisoners. He nodded his head, his eyes locked ahead. Thorin remained still. His hands were clenched in tight fist that were making his knuckles crack and his nails were painful against his palm. His blood pounded in  his ears, almost drowning out every other noise. His left arm trembled and tingled and he could hardly hold it still.

“Yes, milord.” The guard stepped aside to allow them through. Thorin carefully remained still. If he went inside he would not leave. Not until the dwarf was a broken and bloody mess. He couldn’t afford to stay that long. He still needed to see Bilbo. The aching coldness in his chest wouldn’t dissipate until he knew Bilbo was alive and well. Until he could hold the hobbit in his arms once again.

“Dwalin, Nori, learn all you can. Use whatever means necessary.” His loyal dwarves nodded and went inside. Thorin waited a moment longer, trying to control the beating of his heart and the rushing of his breath before going to see Bilbo.

The healing ward was near the cells, but it felt like he was walking across the whole of Erebor.

Balin, Glóin, Bifur, Bofur, Dori, Ori, and Kíli were standing outside of Bilbo’s room. Óin was inside with a few other healers.  

“He is recovering well.” Balin informed Thorin the minute he was within hearing distance. “He has a mild concussion and he needed five stitches but otherwise he was unharmed.”

“May I see him?”

“Of course.”

Ori pulled the door open and Thorin paused halfway through a step. He could hear Bilbo’s voice drifting out from the room. The sound made the crushing panic that had been squeezing around his heart start to dissipate. He found himself able to breath and think again.

He finished the step and his feet quickly took him into the room.

The room held only one bed, Thorin would never allow Bilbo to have to share a room while ill. The healers had left, save for Óin, who stood beside Bilbo. The hobbit was sitting up in his bed with a smile. He had a blanket pulled over his legs and was wearing a night shirt-one of Thorin’s. His hair had been pulled to the side and a few of his golden-red curls had been shaved to clear the way for the stitches on his temple. His eyes found Thorin’s extremely quickly and a grin quirked his lips.

“My lord! Welcome to my humble abode. Óin was just explaining the merits of licorice over rosehip.”

“You are alright?” He stayed in the doorway. For some reason the small distance to Bilbo’s bed seemed almost insurmountable. Bilbo was clearly awake and well, but Thorin didn’t want to enter the room and find it was all just an illusion brought on by his madness.

“Well enough. A bit annoyed that I never caught on to the fact that the dwarf was going to harm me.”

“He is not in danger?” Thorin asked Óin but not removing his gaze from Bilbo.

“No.”

“Then leave us, please.” Óin nodded and gathered his items up. He put them in the bag methodically with hands that had obviously performed the task a hundred times. He sealed the bag and slung it over his shoulder and walked towards the door. Thorin laid a hand on his arm before he left. “Thank you, my friend.”

Óin merely smiled, his wizened face crinkling with lines earned from laughter. “Think nothing of it, Sire.”

The door clicked shut and Thorin returned his eyes to Bilbo. The hobbit smiled softly and held out his right hand. Thorin slipped across the room with feet that he was barely aware of and took the hand eagerly. The fingers were warm under his and his hand wrapped around them easily. Bilbo tugged him nearer and tilted his head back to peer up at Thorin. His grin never slipped.

“Mimizel?”

“You look terrible.” Bilbo stated blandly. He tugged Thorin’s hand again and reached for his other hand. He tugged that hand as well and looked pointedly at the empty spot beside his legs. Thorin took the offer for what it was and sat down. His lover gave his head a satisfied nod and settled back against the pillows. “Did you storm through the entire castle with that glare?”

“You were attacked. Again.” The kingdom was lucky he hadn’t hit anyone yet. It had mostly been because Balin, Dwalin, and Fíli were the only ones near him. No matter the rage he had gone into at hearing that his hobbit, his consort, his love, had been hurt, he would not attack them.

Bilbo scrunched his face up in distaste. “Yes, and he was perfectly dreadful before he actually hit me. He called me an insolent child and your pet. Still, that was technically my first attack. They burned the garden, not me.”

“Because you were not present, Mimizel.” Thorin growled. He could not believe that Bilbo was being so flippant about the entire thing. The hobbit’s presence was soothing, as always, but it didn’t rid Thorin’s blood of the coursing anger. Not only had that dwarf hit Bilbo, he’d also been ridiculed by him. Pet indeed.

Bilbo waved his hand dismissively. “Yes, but you know who did that now. Right? I mean, it had to have been him.” He snuggled back in the pillows and turned his head to see the door. Shouts could be heard from the hall. They were prayers to Mahal for a quick recovery. “Bofur says he also seems to have made me more popular.”  Thorin laid his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and tugged the hobbit back to facing him.

“What else did he say to you?”

“That he wanted me at the gate. I suspect he wanted to get me alone.” Bilbo paused and his smiled dropped for the first time since he’d come into the room. A traced of worry flitted across his eyes and Thorin’s grip tightened on Bilbo’s hand. “I would have gone with him if he hadn’t hit me. I had no idea that… that he wasn’t a member of your guard.”

“Did you not have Sting?” Bilbo gave his head a shake. His head drooped and he wouldn’t lift his eyes.

“No. I was defenseless. I couldn’t even disappear. I’m terrible with my sword. I’ve only survived off luck. I wouldn’t have been able to fight off a trained soldier.” Bilbo’s fingers shook and Thorin’s chest felt like something was trying to tear his heart out of it. His head felt tight and it throbbed with pain just from looking at how scared his hobbit was. He would do anything, _anything_ , to make sure that Bilbo didn’t look like that again.

He’d last seen that look of terror when he had told his Burglar that he had betrayed the entirety of Erebor. Right before he’d banished him. He’d feared it would be the last he ever saw of his loved hobbit.

Thorin’s mind raced with ideas. Sorting through methods and fail safes and possible options to keep Bilbo safe. To make him feel secured.

He could think of only one thing, and he was not certain it was a good idea. But Bilbo had been attacked in the kingdom. He had been attacked by one of Thorin’s guards. If he could not even trust his guard, who was left to trust?

Bilbo. That was all he had left. He would trust the hobbit. He would trust his heart with danger and madness to allow Bilbo safety.

- _The Ring._ \- Bilbo’s gaze snapped back to his. They were large and unblinking, and the fear in them flickered.

“What?” Something flared at the back of Thorin’s mind. Something not quite right, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

“The Ring.” He swallowed and pushed back the unhelpful thoughts. “If you had it you could disappear whenever you needed.” Bilbo’s eyes widened and eagerness washed over his face.

“Yes. That would make me feel safe.” Bilbo rubbed his thumb along the back of Thorin’s knuckles, his grin slowly returning.  He gazed at their hands for a moment, and the grin changed. It wasn’t quite right, but Thorin wasn’t sure why. It made something uncomfortably shift in the back of his mind.

Bilbo’s gaze flickered back to his and the smile softened once again. “You really do look ragged, Thorin.”

“I am afraid that it was rather taxing to see your attacker.”

“What did you do to him?” Bilbo’s eyes  narrowed and his soft smile dropped into a frown. He looked at Thorin expectantly and it made the dwarf want to scowl. The attacker was a traitor and deserved to hang from the battlements by his toenails.

“Nothing.” He growled the words out but it didn’t relieve the pressure building in his chest that just thinking about the dwarf brought. The hobbit’s fingers tightened around his and drew his gaze to where they were connected. Bilbo’s hand was so much more petite than his. Deceptively delicate for the stout creature.

“What will you do? I don’t want you doing anything worse than he would get if it had been someone else he’d attacked. Don’t make me a special case.”

Bilbo was a special case. He was the Royal Consort (to be, but that didn’t matter) and was therefore so much more important than anyone else in the kingdom to Thorin.

“We do not actually have a punishment for such a crime. It has never been committed before.” He glowered at the bedspread. “We will have to come up with something to fit such a heinous act.”

“I see.”

“Do you have any ideas?” Bilbo snorted and gave his head a tiny shake. His thumb was still rubbing Thorin’s knuckles and the tiny contact was terribly distracting for some reason.

“Goodness no. I wouldn’t have any idea where to even begin.”

“Well,” Thorin said with a dark chuckle, “we could always flay him. I seem to recall you were quite fond of that method on the quest.”

Bilbo blinked uncomprehendingly for a moment and Thorin continued to give him an amused smile. Then the hobbit choked and spluttered. “It was the only thing I could think of at the moment! I was surrounded by sacked dwarves and giant trolls!”

Thorin choked out a laugh and reached for Bilbo. He pulled the hobbit into his arms and buried his face in Bilbo’s curls to try and settle the ache in his chest. He’d almost lost him, Lost this incredible hobbit that had made their ridiculous quest a success and given him the gift of love. He would have never heard his bubbling laughter again, or nuzzled his soft curls while the hobbit fell asleep.

Bilbo’s arms wrapped around his neck and the ache grew even more intense. He fought against releasing a sob and clutched Bilbo closer. He hadn’t been there to protect his hobbit. Every time Bilbo was hurt Thorin wasn’t there. He kept failing his intended. It was too close. Far too close. He could not lose Bilbo.

Not his precious Bilbo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The power at my house will not be restored until Wednesday at 11:30 pm. I've been out of power since Friday :( To all my fellow North Carolinians, is anyone else tired of our weird winter weather? It was sixty degrees outside the DAY AFTER we had an ice storm. What even.
> 
> Ah well. Enjoy the chapter ;)


	16. Chapter 16

Darkness all consuming surrounded Thorin Oakenshield. He had fallen into an abyss that ended in more darkness and nothing could save him from the crushing blackness. His throat was sore from screaming and his breathing utterly ragged from running. His arm shook violently and his barely noticeable limp had become a jarring stutter that lurched him after each step.

There was no where to run. He could not get away from the darkness that was trying to suffocate him.

Thorin fell to the ground with a hard thud. His leg could not hold him up any longer. His face met the ground and he covered his face in his hands in an attempt to breathe.

_Come to me._

The call was faint, hardly more than the whisper of the wind. It didn’t have to be loud,Thorin would have heard it regardless of the volume. It was a siren call he would never be able to resist. The call that haunted him and enthralled him.

The call of his gold.

He pushed himself up with energy he didn’t have, and looked around. The blackness was gone and in its place was the entrance to the treasure room. It looked real and felt solid beneath his feet. He could smell the faint remains of incense in the air and feel the warmth from the now working furnaces at the foot of the kingdom.

Thorin stumbled forward and rested his hands against the door. The stone was cool beneath his hand. It was real.

_Thorin…_

Bilbo’s voice echoed from inside the room and Thorin was helpless to resist the call of both his gold and Bilbo. It was perfect, all that he loved in one location. The lock was steady under his fingertips and the key turned easily. He pushed it open and the grind of the doors gears was loud in the empty hallway.

_Thorin…_

He stepped into the room and looked around as his heart beat harder and quicker. Mounds of gold were strewn about the room, littered with precious gems and rare metals. Beautiful trinkets of exquisite craftsmanship were able to be seen everywhere and they reflected the torches light with a brilliance that would have put Valinor itself to shame.

His eyes glided over the beauty of his hoard for endless moments. He wanted for nothing and could think of nothing but the alluring treasure in front of him.

_Thorin. My King._

The voice came from behind the dwarf. Tearing his eyes from the treasures he turned to finally look at his hobbit.

And promptly lost his breath.

Bilbo was gleaming in the torchlight with unnatural brilliance. His eyes sparkled with gem light, and his curls hung heavily from his head. He was gold. His entire body was solid, unblemished, gold. The hobbit’s golden hand curled around Thorin’s bare arm and the king jerked back from the cold touch. It was inhuman and lacking everything that made it Bilbo.

 _What is wrong, my King? Is this not what you love?_ The apparition moved closer and Thorin felt his own blood begin to grow as cold as the golden-beings skin.

“Bilbo,” he gasped out. His heart ached in a terrible way. The gold hobbit smiled and it was painfully familiar and horribly wrong.

 _Yes. Bilbo, the one you love. Do you not find me lovely? You’re the one who thought gold to be more precious._ The hand reached out again and grasped his arm. He couldn’t shake it off this time and the skin around where he touched felt colder than ice. Black terror gripped his mind and guilt flooded his heart. He had thought gold more valuable than his beloved. He had traded Bilbo’s respect-his very life-for gold. For something he had thought precious.

His mind howled.

 _Yes. Here I am, Oakenshield. As you wanted me. Join me?_ Thorin could no longer feel his arm. His chest was starting to grow numb as well, and his feet were unmovable against the stone floor.

He was turning to gold as well.

“Bilbo,” the name fell from his lips in a broken plea and Thorin didn’t know what he was pleading for. He felt betrayed, and traitorous. He had wanted this. Had wanted the gold more than the hobbit. _I can’t hear you, Thorin. Remember? You sent me to dragonfire and it stole my hearing away._

Thorin choked on a sob, he couldn’t breath around the crushing weight on his chest. He couldn’t move or think or blink. He was frozen in the cold and guilt.

 _Yes. You are mine. I own you, Thorin Oakenshield._ The voice deepened and grew raspier as the words echoed in Thorin’s mind. They were almost growled, but they also seemed closer to a whisper. It no longer sounded anything like Bilbo. It was far more ancient, and impossibly evil.

“Thorin,”

His name echoed around the room, a sweet call that had nothing to do with cold, guilt, or gold. It came from elsewhere. It called for him to escape and join the owner of the voice somewhere far nicer. The stone beneath his feet tilted, and Thorin found himself moving. Colors started to slip from the room and the walls crumbled to the ground as the voice calling his name grew louder and more insistent.  Heat seeped back into his bones to chase off the nightmare, and he sought after it with all he had. As the reality around him began to shatter, he heard one last echoing promise from the gold.

_There is no life in the void. Only death._

Thorin recognized a distinctive murmur before he opened his eyes. Almost as if someone were indeed urging him to wake up. He could feel sunlight on his skin. The rays warm and welcoming, the light shining through his eyelids to tell him that the day was here and that darkness had no control.

He let his eyes slip open and blinked against the sunlight, but not before he was nearly blinded by the light of Bilbo’s eyes.

“Thorin, Sanzeuh…” His Burglar’s voice was thick and sweet as honey. It was warmth and safety and a promise of light that even the sun could not match. It reminded him of when he was a child in his mother’s hold. When the summer’s heat would warm him awake and chase away the coldness of the sleeping mountain.

He didn’t feel cold any longer.

He was lying on grass and the glass ceiling over his head reflected the clear day overhead. It should have felt out of place in the stone city, but it was warm and bright and made the city seem more beautiful. So like his hobbit among a sea of dwarves.

Bilbo’s hand was stroking his cheek and it was warm skin that touched his own flesh. Not the icy, smoothness of gold. There was a flower tucked behind the hobbit’s pointed ear, a simple dandelion, and the curls fell around it in careless disarray. He smiled down at Thorin, and the dwarf knew he had never seen a more beautiful or precious sight.

“Bilbo,” He murmured. He cupped his own hand around the hand that was stroking his cheek and forced his eyes to stay open. His heart was still pounding and his body was vibrating with adrenaline from the nightmares fright.

Thorin didn’t remember falling asleep. He’d joined Bilbo for a late snack. Had they spent the entire night in the garden? “Are you alright, Thorin?” The dwarf nodded his head out of habit.

“It was just a nightmare. Nothing to worry about, Mimizel.” Bilbo’s frown made it quite clear what he thought of that statement. Thorin wanted the smile back. He’d always want it. “What time is it? Did we spend the entire night here?”

“It’s just a little after dawn. Dwalin kept watch last night and now Froir is guarding the door with two or three other dwarves I don’t know but he does.” He scooted closer to Thorin and bend down so that his face was all the dwarf could see. It made his heart race. Bilbo held still for a moment before pressing a soft kiss to his lips and drawing back. “Dwalin said that Nori had information for you whenever you were ready.”

Thorin sat up. Loathe as he was to leave the peace of the garden and Bilbo’s hypnotic presence, he would not waste time. “Then you should have woken me, Sanzeuh.” He stood up slowly and stretched out his sleep stiff muscles. “Are you going to spend the morning tending your garden?” He could see Sting strapped to the hobbit’s side, and he had no doubt the Ring was in his pocket.

Doubt tickled the back of his mind anytime he thought about it. It was just a ring though, it was hardly like it would actually _harm_ Bilbo. It wouldn’t be long before Gandalf arrived anyway.

Bilbo stood up as well, pushing himself to his knees and tottering as he got his legs under his body. Thorin steadied him automatically. “Yes. Ori’s coming by as well. He’s asked me for a collection of hobbit stories. It’ll be fun to tell them all.” He tugged the bottom of his vest to straighten it out before dusting off his trousers. “Dís might stop by as well.”

“And I will see you at lunch.” He wrapped Bilbo up in a hug and breathed in his warmth. He gave him a lingering kiss before departing the garden. Froir and three of Dwalin’s most trusted soldiers were in front of the door.

Thorin felt better about leaving his love.

-[]-[]-[]-

Dwalin had undersold Nori’s information. Thorin knew that much for certain the minute he walked into the Throne room. Dís, Fíli, Kíli, Balin, Glóin, Dori, Dwalin, and five other council members were standing in front of him with very grim expressions. Nori was in the middle of the group with a scroll clenched in his right hand. The hum of argument that Thorin had heard all down the hall stopped the moment he entered.

“What news have you?”

Nori crossed the room to meet Thorin. He extended his right hand and the sealed scroll. “This, your majesty. It’s a signed confession from Mikha.” Thorin accepted the scroll and broke the wax seal as Nori continued. “He admitted to attempting to kidnap Bilbo. He would have taken him to a room on the third level if Ori hadn’t interrupted him.” Thorin unrolled the scroll and quickly scanned it’s contents. “He was told to do so by-”

“Nikabrik?” The name stood out boldly on the parchment. It was written in red ink, and Thorin felt the urge to have it written in the dwarf’s accursed name. He would have him destroyed. They would have to invent a punishment for him. There were none in current existence that would be painful enough.

“Yes.” Nori looked over to Balin who sighed and joined them. The other dwarves also moved closer.

“Dwalin found a bag of gold on Mikha that had Nikabrik’s personal seal. It would seem as if he paid the dwarf to take Bilbo.”

“Why?” The council members who were not part of the company shuddered at his tone. The others looked at him with gazes that matched the anger in his voice.

“Mikha didn’t know why he was taking Bilbo to the room. He only knew he was supposed to leave him there.” Nori answered in a clipped voice.

“We have all the guards looking for Nikabrik.” Dwalin added. “He will be brought in for you to question.”

Good. Thorin wanted to get the traitorous dwarf alone. Thorin passed the scroll back to Nori. “Have Mikha tried for an attempted kidnapping and for harming a member of the royal household.”

“Milord,” Dathos, one of the council members, cut in, “Bilbo Baggin’s is not yet a member of the royal household.”

“I believe you will find that he is.” Fíli, to Thorin’s mild surprise, answered before he could. He forced the roaring anger in his chest to quiet and listened to what his nephew had to say. “He has saved the life of three members of the royal family multiple times. He has been awarded a braid of the King’s hair for his service.” Dathos’ eyes widened in shock and Fíli stood even  taller. He didn’t quite have his brother’s height, but the dominating air of the line of Durin was heavy around him whenever he wanted it. When Fíli pulled on it, Thorin could see the king he would be. It made him proud to think of him as kin. “As you know, our laws and traditions dictate that the braid of royalty, when given to one for their services, grant the wearer equal status with whoever the braid came from. He is of royal blood as far as the law is now concerned.”

“I-I trust there were witnesses to the gifting of the braid?”

“Balin, my Brother, and I were present at it’s awarding.” Fíli replied without hesitation. Kíli and Balin nodded their heads in agreement.

“Now,” Balin placed a hand on Thorin’s arm and gently guided him back and away from the other dwarves. “That is all the news Nori currently has. I have news on another, more private, matter.” Thorin nodded his head and dismissed the other dwarves, save for his kin and Dwalin.

“We’ve received a raven with a reply from Gandalf.” Balin said quietly. He passed a thin piece of parchment to Thorin and held his eyes as he turned it over. There were three sentences written on it in the wizard’s familiar scrawl.

**_Do not do anything rash. I am coming. I will be there before the end of April._ **

-

“Mahal, that is good news.” He didn’t mind the short reply, he had expected nothing else. He was counting himself lucky that there weren’t any riddles hidden in it. “Thank you for bringing this to me, my friend.” Balin smiled, his eyes sparkling.

“Let’s hope that Mister Bilbo can finally have peace.”

Peace… Thorin would not have minded some for himself. He could still hear the voice from his nightmare calling his name. Peace was something he feared he would not find for a long time.

-[]-[]-[]-

Bilbo was waving his hands animatedly as he spoke. Ori was rushing to record every word in his notebook with excitement that no one else could quite manage for the written word. Bifur was carving a tiny wooden bird and helped Bilbo with a sign every few minutes. They hadn’t noticed Thorin or Dwalin’s presence, and neither of the dwarves felt quite inclined to interrupt them yet.

Bilbo’s curls had fallen into his eyes and no matter how much he flicked his head they wouldn’t go away. He could have just brushed it away but he wasn’t willing to stop signing long enough to do that. He was sitting on a log in the middle of his garden and evidence of his earlier activities could be seen in the dirt that dusted his trousers. his legs were crossed and his toes twitched with excitement. Ori kept his eyes trained on Bilbo’s hands while writing, which impressed Thorin. The scribe was a truly adept writer if he didn’t even need to look at what he was doing.

Bifur should have been the odd one out. He was carving and didn’t really seem part of the conversation. His eyes gave his care away though. They kept returning to the dwarf writing beside him, and the hobbit talking next to him. He’d set his carving down and correct Bilbo’s hands with surprising gentleness if he needed to. He’d laugh loudly and suddenly any time Ori made a joke and it was obvious he was making the eagle after the ones that had rescued them.

“They are quite the trio.” Dwalin observed. His voice was quiet and held a note of affection in it that Thorin had never heard directed at someone other than Balin and himself. It made pride for his for friend flare in his chest. Dwalin had been lonely for far too long. He was happy that he finally had someone.

“Aren’t they? Rather an unlikely friendship.”

“Lady Kióna wanted me to arrest him for teaching an outsider our language.” Dwalin huffed a quiet sound that might have been a laugh. “She sang a different tune after I told her who Bilbo was.”

“Do you think they will accept him?” Thorin asked quietly. He barely dared to voice the question. It was desperately important to him. He didn’t want Bilbo to be rejected by his people. He knew what it was to live somewhere you didn’t belong. He would never wish it on the hobbit.

“They already have. Did you know that a group of dwarves have written their kin in Ered Luin and are having all of Bilbo’s items shipped over on the next caravan?”

Thorin shook his head, not trusting his voice. He hadn’t known that at all. “Nikabrik’s little scheme has made him far more popular. They didn’t realize how fond they were of him until someone attacked him. The entire kingdom was prepared to accept him for your sake. He has a way of getting under your skin though. Did you know he arranged to have plants spread throughout the sleeping quarters? They’re just little purple things. The kind that grew wild over Ered Luin. He wanted something a little familiar for the younger dwarves.” Dwalin chuckled dryly. “Bofur spread the news around that it was Bilbo who arranged for that.”

Bifur sat up right abruptly and reached forward to Bilbo. He grabbed both the hobbit’s hands in his and brought them to his chest before mumbling something in khuzdul.

Thorin’s chest tightened in a horrible way and a hot liquid bloomed in his stomach that made him stride into the room with determined steps. He didn’t register the fact that Bifur was saying that he Thorin had arrived, or the fact that he had released the hobbit. He wasn’t paying attention to anything other than the fact that someone else had grabbed Bilbo.

Bilbo was standing by the time he reached the trio. He reached for Bilbo to wrap him up in his arms and finally registered the unamused look in his hobbit’s eyes.

Oh.

“A word, my King?” Without actually waiting for an answer, Bilbo took his hand and dragged him to a more secluded corner of the garden while Dwalin went to greet Ori. (The young scribe hugged him. That was a far nicer greeting.)

“Bilbo,” he started, but Bilbo clearly had no intention of letting him speak.

“What was that?” he asked flatly. “You just stormed across the garden and you looked like you were growling ‘mine!’”

Thorin fisted his hands. That was his right. Bilbo was _his_ consort. _His_ intended. He got to claim him and no one else. Bifur had no right to touch him!

Bilbo glared and Thorin realized he’d said that out loud. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared right back at Bilbo even though it made his heart ache to be glared at by Bilbo. “Yours? I’m yours to claim?”

“Yes.” Bilbo spluttered and took a step back. He waved his hands in the air in a gesture of one who had had quite enough.

“Why I-you oaf!” He poked Thorin hard in the chest but Thorin didn’t budge. “Bifur was helping me. He is the one who taught me to sign and he can grab my hand any time he wants! Now, if you’ll excuse me, your highness, I’m going to dinner.” He leaned in closer, his blue-green eyes flashing as he glared up at Thorin. “And I’m going to sit between Bifur and Bofur. Our hands will probably bump.”

And then Bilbo flounced out of the room and Thorin was standing in the garden alone with boiling blood and a confused head.

Gandalf could not arrive soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up everyone, there isn’t much of this tale left. I can’t say much without spoiling stuff, but we’ve almost finished everything. Any questions you want answered let me know and I’ll try to make sure I get it all.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a VERY NSFW Chapter. AKA, Smut in this chapter, skip to the second section if that is not your thing :)

Thorin had the ability to wake up very quickly if he felt the need to. It usually meant he was in some sort of danger, and always left him feeling _very_ on edge.

Right now he was still laying down, sprawled out on his bed where he had fallen asleep? He didn’t actually remember coming to the room. The last thing he remembered was dinner. Bilbo had indeed sat between Bofur and Bifur. He hadn’t even looked at Thorin until the dinner was nearly over. That had simply been to bring him his goblet, as per tradition.

The room was rather too warm and mostly dark. The fire had only just started to die out then. It was the middle of the night. That thought made him instantly move his right arm to grab for Orcrist in preparation for defending Bilbo against whatever had awoken him.

Well... He _tried_ to move his right arm in an attempt to grab Orcrist only to discover it was, in fact, tied to something. He jerked it in mild panic, feeling skin warmed metal encircling his wrist. His left arm met with the same problem, as did his feet.

He was chained to the bed?

Laughter echoed around the chamber and Thorin’s tense body, which had been moments from a fit that probably would have resulted in physical damage, relaxed slightly. Bilbo was nearby.

Surely enough, the hobbit walked into his field of vision holding a key and a bottle of something. He was wearing nothing but Thorin’s sleep tunic and a large, mischievous grin. That was when Thorin realized he was not only chained to the bed, he was also quite naked on it.

He didn’t know what to make of this situation.

Bilbo paused at the foot of the bed and let his eyes drift over Thorin’s bare body hungrily for several long moments before he carefully set the bottle and key on the bedside table.  He went back to the bedroom door and, with his eyes trained on Thorin’s, shut it. He very slowly locked it and then crossed the room to climb up onto the bed beside Thorin.

“Bilbo?” He did not care for how dry or weak his voice sounded. Bilbo grinned as if he knew how Thorin’s voice sounded. He repressed the urge to squirm under Bilbo’s slowly wickeding smile. The hobbit’s gaze trailed over his naked body again and Thorin could feel himself flushing at the frank appraisal. He wasn’t a shy dwarf by nature, but he felt vulnerable and very aware of how Bilbo was taking him in.

Confused did not begin to describe his current state.

“Mmm, just look at you.” Bilbo purred. He propped himself up with one hand and brought the other one to rest on Thorin’s clavicle.

“Bilbo,” Thorin tried again, but his voice was even wobblier this time.

“It has come to my attention,” Bilbo said with a slow trail of his fingers down Thorin’s chest that left the dwarf tingly, “that you are a bit on the possessive side.” His eyes darted to catch Thorin’s gaze and the dwarf’s breath abandoned his body in a single whoosh at how _dark_ the hobbit’s were. They claimed his attention and he could not look away.

“What you seem to have forgotten in your rush to claim, _me_ , is that you are _mine_.” Bilbo’s hand, the tricky devil, had been trailing back up his abs and now grabbed hold of his nipple before giving it a sharp twist that had Thorin’s back arching up off the bed and his hands jerking against his chains.

“Did you-” he swallowed and tried to focus. He was a king, Mahal, and he would not be so easily beaten! “Did you drug me?”

Bilbo smiled coyly. “Yes.” He swung his leg over Thorin’s chest and straddled his waist before settling his weight on top of Thorin. It was an extremely welcome burden. He peered down at him with heavily lidded eyes that had Thorin’s heart pounding. “And now you are mine to do what I want with.”

Thorin’s breath drew in sharply as Bilbo’s lips pressed slowly against his neck. The hobbit’s mouth was hot and smooth and Thorin shivered despite the warmth of the room. "anything I want," Bilbo murmured, his voice low and rough between kisses. His lips worked up to the spot where Thorin’s pulse pounded beneath his jaw. "And you would be unable to stop me. Does it thrill you to be defenseless, my King?"

Thorin froze, his heart tripped over a few beats as Bilbo’s hands found his shoulders and squeezed. "To be owned by someone else?" He paused with his lips still lightly pressed against Thorin’s throat, and he smirked. The hobbit drew up, his smile full of promise before he brought his left hand to Thorin’s head and buried it in his hair. He forced Thorin’s head up and pressed their lips together in a demanding, unquenchable kiss that had Thorin nearly shaking from the unexpected flood of desire that filled his veins.

He didn’t know why the idea of Bilbo being able to do whatever he wanted was so thrilling. It was something forbidden-letting Bilbo have complete control and possession of him. He was always supposed to be in control, always supposed to be together, and always supposed to posses. He was never to be out of control, and Mahal forbid he let someone else be in power.

But with Bilbo sitting on top of him, having tied him down just to get the point across, something in Thorin snapped.

He _liked_ having Bilbo take control. He wasn’t sure he wanted to investigate why that was.

The length of Bilbo’s body pressed over Thorin’s body with welcome weight. The hobbit’s arms closed him in possessively as he deepened the kiss and tugged his hair. Thorin gasped at the slight, stinging pain and Bilbo sank his tongue deep into his mouth. It made Thorin’s body quake with sparks of desire. His arms and legs flexed in an attempt to be free so he could grab Bilbo and move him where he wanted, but the hobbit was quite correct. He was helpless.

Bilbo tasted masculine, and hot, slightly bitter from the dinners wine and something that was just him. It made Thorin feel oddly like he was falling, his head was so dizzy. He found himself clinging to the chains holding him to the bed as Bilbo’s tongue thrust again and again. His cock pressing into Thorin’s abdomen with quiet promise.

He pulled back and Thorin clutched frantically at the empty air, wanting more. Bilbo sat back and it made Thorin feel a bit better about his own dishevelled state to see that the hobbit was panting heavily. He met Thorin’s gaze and made the dwarf marvel again at how large Bilbo’s pupils were.

“I want you…” he said, his hand once again resting on Thorin’s chest. “May I have you? All of you?”

“Anything,” Thorin nearly yelled. He swallowed thickly and forced himself to calm down. “Anything you want Bilbo. Everything.” He closed his eyes and relaxed against the chains. His body sagged into the mattress. “It’s already yours.”

And that was why he was enjoying it. He belonged to Bilbo just as much as Bilbo belonged to him. He always saw them as equals, and he wanted Bilbo to know that they were. He had never intended to make Bilbo think he had less of a claim on Thorin than Thorin had on him.

He also liked that Bilbo had removed all control from him. It made it easier to submit to whatever the hobbit wanted to do.

Bilbo beamed and reached for the key and jar. He brought it back to the bed and, with a mischievous smile, set the key by the pillow and poured a bit of oil onto his fingers.

Thorin managed not to moan in annoyance.

Bilbo settled between his legs and he slid his hands down Thorin’s chest with his nails just barely scratching at his skin. The touch seemed to flood Thorin’s body with liquid need as his hand slid possessively to his thighs. The feel of warm, slick fingers sliding against the most intimate flesh between his thighs made Thorin arch and jerk. Captive beneath Bilbo’s hands and the constricting chains, he could only moan, almost shouting from pleasure as Bilbo’s hand grazed his cock. One of his fingers slid slowly into him and Thorin bit off all noises abruptly at the sensation.

“Is this okay, Thorin?" Bilbo rasped, voice shaking with barely-leashed control as his finger slid out of Thorin. He circled around Thorin’s hole roughly and the dwarf was helpless to stop his bucking hips. He growled out in khuzdul, his mind refusing to make sense of the common tongue. He nodded his head fervently and ignored Bilbo’s laugh.

The finger returned and set to making Thorin ready with steady pumps that were making him keen. Another finger was added and Thorin pressed his head back into the soft pillow and bit his lip. There was a murmur in the back of his mind saying that he should be the one taking Bilbo but he told it to shut up because this was just fine with Thorin.

The third finger burned but it was a burn that Thorin liked. He clenched his hands into fist and pulled tight at the chains in need of grabbing Bilbo. The hobbit was so close but too far from his reach. He wanted. Mahal he wanted.

Bilbo pressed down on him and kissed his lips as he took the key back up. He unclasped Thorin’s legs and then, with a surprising burst of strength, rolled Thorin onto his stomach.

The hobbit’s weight eased onto Thorin as he slid his still slick hands down Thorin’s back to his bare thighs. He wrapped his hands around Thorin’s hips and guided him back to where he wanted him. Thorin wound his own hands around the chain so he could have something to hold onto, but it was useless for leverage.

Bilbo eased his hips up a little and shifted back to look at Thorin. It made him feel exposed in a way that being tied to the bed hadn’t, and he couldn’t help but squirm a little. Bilbo was back before he could get truly uncomfortable and he dragged the broad head of his cock against Thorin. After a moment of teasing that had Thorin rocking back pointlessly, he pushed inside.

His mouth gaped open in a silent gasp as Bilbo made his way further in, hard and warm and more than Thorin had anticipated. The stretch was almost painful and Bilbo’s weight seemed to grow heavier as he pressed until he was fully seated. Thorin dropped his head and panted for breath. It felt like he was suffocating from the warmth and pressure and utter fullness. His hair fell around his face and blocked the view of everything, settling him in dark near silence.

Bilbo circled his hips slowly, pushing in slightly deeper and stretching Thorin further. The hobbit’s cheek pressed against his overheated back and Thorin felt his heart give a hard thud as his body finally loosened up and seemed to welcome Bilbo instead of expel him.

The drag and slide of Bilbo’s girth was astounding and Thorin keened as the hobbit started to pull out. He didn’t have to worry about Bilbo judging any noise he made, and it felt _good_ to let loose. Bilbo rammed home again before he'd even had time to fully register the loss of him. Fast, sharp thrusts from Bilbo seemed to ignite every molten aching sense in his body. It trailed up his spine, tingled down his fingers, and curled tight in his chest as Bilbo continuously filled him to bursting.

He could feel Bilbo, an intense stretch, a weight pushing him forward on the bed as the hobbit thrust deep and rough. His Burglar’s palms were hot everywhere against him as they pushed him further into his pleasure. He didn’t fight a grunt, howl, or near scream whenever Bilbo managed to hit his prostate. Colors danced behind his clenched eyelids and Bilbo gripped him tighter.

He was being claimed, and it was unlike anything Thorin had ever experienced. It was oddly liberating. Freeing to know that Bilbo wanted, and cared for Thorin as much as Thorin wanted and cared for him.

It felt like his world was coming apart, breaking under the sheer weight of Bilbo’s presence. Under his unceasing claim. He couldn’t see past his hair, and Bilbo was all he was aware of. He could feel him hot against his back, hear him panting out breathless grunts every time he slammed into Thorin’s body. He coveted the weight of Bilbo and the press of his body as he pressed their pelvises together. Bilbo seemed to push himself deeper with each thrust. It felt like he was trying to become part of Thorin.

Thorin rocked back as well as he could, gripping around Bilbo’s cock with each thrust. The flame in his stomach burned, hot and scorching, a flame just waiting to burst as Bilbo made him his. The hobbit growled something against his back before his hand gripped Thorin’s aching cock and started to stroke him in time with his thrusts. He craned his head back, mouth open wide as he panted for breath and tried not to cry out.

He felt tightness surging down his spine to coil in his stomach. It made his spine arch and Bilbo ground into him roughly, stimulating his prostate as he stroke Thorin urgently. He could hear his hobbit mumbling, urging him on with indecipherable words. Each thrust and stroke made the molten liquid in his chest tighten until it was a tense inferno.

Thorin tossed his head back and bellowed Bilbo’s name as he climaxed. Molten liquid spread throughout his body, surging up his spine and exploding in light and color. He was vaguely aware of Bilbo’s continued thrusts and then something liquid and hot filling him as Bilbo howled.

Thorin sagged against the chains, no longer capable of holding himself up. Bilbo straightened slowly, withdrawing from inside Thorin with a happy groan. He unchained Thorin’s hands and turned him over to his side.

Thorin felt utterly exhausted, and still oddly free.

“Rest, my King.” Bilbo kissed his lips lightly, he brushed his nose along Thorin’s cheek before rising from the bed. He returned shortly and curled up beside Thorin. He wrapped his arms around Bilbo and let his eyes slip closed.

“You don’t have to worry, you know.” Bilbo said after a moment. Thorin frowned at his pillow before forcing his eyes open again. Bilbo had his back pressed to Thorin’s chest so he wouldn’t be able to see anything he said. “There’s nothing to be jealous about. Half the kingdom didn’t even like me being here. You hardly have to panic about someone trying to steal me away. Besides, I’m quite happy with you.”

Thorin pressed the sign for ‘love’ into Bilbo’s chest and the hobbit snuggled back further into his arms. He allowed his eyes to close again, feeling safe and loved.

-[]-[]-[]-

Thorin was concealed by the shadows in the far corner of the room. It wasn’t necessary, or expected, for him to attend any sort of interrogation.

Thorin would not have missed this one for anything. This was extremely personal, and he did not mind using his position as king to allow himself to be present for it. The prisoner didn’t need to know he was there though. With the help of the shadows, he wouldn’t.

The single door to the small chamber open and Dwalin entered. Two guards followed behind him with a chained and furious Nikabrik. The dwarf was seated at a table in the center of the room and his chains secured to his chair. Dwalin set several items on the table top slowly while his guards fastened Nikabrik’s chains. A dagger, a vial of acid that Nori often used to break through iron bars, a sheet of parchment, a black quill, and a pot of blood red.

“Why am I here?” Nikabrik’s asked with oily smoothness that made Thorin’s skin crawl in irritation. He had a cunning smile curving his lips and he was waiting for Dwalin’s gaze expectantly.

“Because we have found evidence to point you to a crime.” Dwalin stated in a menacingly calm tone. It made Thorin grin to see Nikabrik’s eyes widen slightly. He fidgeted in his seat before his mask of careful indifference fell back into place.

“What crime?”

“Conspiring to kidnap a member of the royal court and accessory to attacking the same member of the royal court.” A momentary look of confusion crossed Nikabrik’s face before being replaced by a calculating look.

“The hobbit?” he murmured, “a member of the court now?” He laughed and shook his head.

Dwalin’s gaze was murderous and Thorin had to fist his own hands to keep from revealing his presence. Bilbo was his intended. That made him higher than Nikabrik in court status. He was also a member of the council in his own right simply for having helped with the reclaiming of Erebor. “A member of the royal family.” Dwalin laid a bag of coins on the table, along with a scribbled on slip of parchment. “And one that you arranged to kidnap.”

“How can you prove that?” Nikabrik asked in a low tone that did nothing to hide the underlying fear in his voice. It made a dark delight curl in Thorin’s stomach. He wanted Nikabrik to beg for mercy before the proceeding was over. He wanted him to despair.

He had harmed Bilbo.

“Mikha did not dispose of the letter you wrote him.” Dwalin walked around the table with slow, sure steps. His axe bumped against his back with a steady thump that was extremely loud in the nearly silent cell. Nikabrik’s eyes were glued to it. Dwalin stopped once he was beside the chained dwarf and leaned against the table. He glared down at the traitor and allowed the slightest hint of a smile to curl his lip up menacingly. “It has your signature and _personal_ seal on it.”

Nikabrik slumped in his chair. “I will not be tried.”

A taunting smile crossed Dwalin’s face. “I suppose you think that your nobility will save you?” he asked.  His expression changed to one of puzzlement.  “Or that your cousin, Dain will save you?” he mused wonderingly.  He tapped a finger against his chin and he turned his thoughtful gaze on the other dwarf.  “Though, you have attacked royalty so your nobility will not save you from being tried.” he smiled winningly and leaned down as if he was sharing a secret. It made it obvious just how much larger than Nikabrik he really was.  “Dain is still your cousin, but he is Thorin’s as well.” he continued in the same contemplative tone that sounded more like his brother.  “He has already blessed the King’s marriage to the ‘halfling’ and openly declared his house aligned with Erebor’s.”  Dwalin heaved a mocking sigh.  “It doesn’t seem like your family will save you this time.”   

“Even you would side with the child of Yavanna?” Dwalin straightened abruptly and pushed Nikabrik’s chair against the wall with his foot while he swept the knife up in his right hand. He pointed it at Nikabrik’s chest in a manner that made it quite clear whose side he was on.

“You would do well to never question my allegiance.” Dwalin stepped back and deposited the knife on the table.

“And yet you have clearly chosen the wrong side!” Nikabrik raged. “We have barely won our kingdom back and it is already being invaded by filth from other lands! What’s worse, the hobbit can _breed_. He can produce heirs and muddy the royal line! Filthy half breeds! Can you imagine the likes of that ruling over Erebor?”

Thorin very nearly gave himself away with a gasp. It was only his military training that saved him from giving his shock away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, to clarify, this story is almost over, not just story arc. 
> 
> And I have power back! Praise Mahal and do a dance.


	18. Chapter 18

Children… That was something Thorin had never even considered. It was something he had thought unattainable. A dream that would never be fulfilled.

Was the mad dwarf correct? Could Bilbo have children? He’d never said anything, but Thorin had never even thought to ask. Having children with Bilbo was a heady thought. One that made Thorin lean against the wall behind him for support. A baby. Someone that was half of him, and half of Bilbo. He could just imagine what the boy or girl would look like and it made a silly, giddy grin lift his lips.

To his credit, Dwalin didn’t let the dwarf’s statement phase him in the least. He continued to glare down as Nikabrik kept talking. “The creature was right! The hobbit must be disposed of before he can pollute the line. I will not allow any exiled king to give away that which the dwarves guard so severely.” Dwalin opened his mouth to speak but Nikabrik still pressed on. Thorin was having trouble controlling his wildly racing and conflicting thoughts.

“Bilbo must die before it can pass!!” Thorin had the dagger back off the table, in his hand and pressed against the miserable dwarf’s throat before he could finish the syllable. Dwalin stepped aside to allow him room and Nikabrik’s eyes were blown wide in shock.

He didn’t care if he’d just revealed himself.

“If you so much as breathe the name of my chosen, give him _any_ cause for grief, I will show you how many ways there are for a body to feel pain.” Thorin promised as he breathed heavily on the dwarf’s face. Nikabrik shrank back in terror. “If Bilbo so much as catches a cold, I will flay you.” Thorin straightened, reeling in his anger and pulling his control around him like a well worn cloak. The dwarf did not know what he was dealing with. Thorin was not fully sane. Madness ran in his family, and he could feel it’s sweet call. It would be most inventive in making Nikabrik scream. The darkness was beckoning him, calling him closer. He could just embrace it and Bilbo would be protected. He was sorely tempted to heed the summons.

He would protect his family at any cost. If madness was the only way, he would embrace it with a clear conscious.

“It would be wise for you to pray to Mahal that Bilbo remains well. It is only at his insistence that I do not let my instinct take over.” He growled and Nikabrik swayed, nearly delirious with fear. “Without him by my side, you would understand what madness means, and how capable I am with a blade.”

He moved to the other side of the table while Dwalin took his position beside the dwarf back up and stared down at Nikabrik. “Now, what creature are you talking about?”

Nikabrik glared sullenly. “Why should I tell you anything?”

“Because if you do not, we will extract it from you.” Dwalin ran the tip of his fingers along his knuckle dusters. “Painfully.”

“It was a creature unlike any I have ever seen.” Nikabrik started with a distasteful frown. “He told me about hobbits and their customs. He also spoke of a trinket the hobbit carried. One that would make the wielder more powerful than any other being on earth.”

Dread poured down Thorin’s spine. That could mean only one thing. Someone, _something_ , new about the Ring. He didn’t know what ‘power’ the Ring held, or how it could possibly make someone the most powerful being in Middle Earth, but he disliked the implications. Who would know about the Ring?

He should have left it locked up.

-[]-[]-[]-

They quarreled again. It seemed a bit like it was becoming a daily ritual.

It was partially Thorin's fault. He felt tense and on edge all day. He woke up each morning with a racing heart and sick feeling his gut. He had trouble sleeping and found it hard to let Bilbo out of his sight for any period of time.

His jealousy was always present, and so hard to control. It left Thorin weary and drained.

It had been obvious that Bilbo was not happy when he'd entered their chambers earlier that evening. Bilbo had been sitting on their bed, sipping at a cup of tea. He had a nasty glower on his face and it only got darker as Thorin walked into the room.

“Why wasn’t I told about Nikabrik?” Thorin had deposited his cloak on the table and looked at his betrothed.

“Because you were not speaking to me the evening we found out, and then you rather distracted me when you were talking to me.” Bilbo’s cheeks turned slightly pink but his glare hadn’t lessen.

“You could have told me after!”

“I could have. I simply forgot, Sanzeuh. I am sorry.”

“I had to hear about it from Bofur and Bifur.” Thorin's stomach had turned at that. He disliked hearing about Bilbo’s contact with Bofur and Bifur in their bedroom. It was the jealousy rising back up. He'd noticed that it was harder to control whenever Bilbo had the Ring in his pocket.

“He spoke of a creature. One that knew about Hobbit customs.”

“What creature?” He had explained what little they knew from Nikabrik's explanation and Bilbo had stated the obvious. It was Gollum. The strange creature from the goblins' cave.

And then Bilbo had said the words that led to Thorin storming out of the room and on a run through the kingdom.

“This could have been avoided if you would just trust me.”

If he trusted Bilbo? Thorin trusted Bilbo. He trusted the hobbit with his life and heart. He trusted him on a daily basis. Would the hobbit never trust him? He only ever confided in Thorin when he was caught out. Even now he didn’t trust Thorin to trust him. Thorin had done nothing to earn the hobbit’s mistrust. Yet it was something he was very aware of. He did not have Bilbo’s trust.

It hurt. A deep, numbing pain that chipped away at Thorin’s heart with each and every breath. He shouldn’t feel it so keenly, but he did.

It was something he couldn't outrun. Something that he could not push away. The hobbit had shown Thorin that he could destroy his heart without even lifting a finger and it terrified him. He had never meant for Bilbo to have such power over him, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

He loved Bilbo, and he wanted the hobbit to feel like he was trusted. He hadn't meant to keep Nikabrik a secret. It had simply slipped his mind.

He hadn’t run just to run since he’d moved to Erebor. Running had become something he did to get to Bilbo. It burned energy and helped to clear his mind so he could untangle his thoughts, but it was always something he did to get to Bilbo.

Running just to run was different. He wanted to find Bilbo waiting by the garden, but it was empty. The sight of the hobbit-less garden made Thorin’s heart trip over it’s quickened pace, and he had to turn around.

Thorin needed to return to Bilbo and explain that it hadn't been malicious. He wasn't trying to keep things from Bilbo. It had truly been a simple oversight. He just didn’t know how to explain what was going on in his chest. He wasn’t even sure why it had (and did) hurt so much.

Thorin stopped in front of the door to his quarters and panted for air. His chipped heart throbbed painfully in his chest. Bilbo had lied to him and hidden so many things. How could Thorin earn his trust? What more did he have to do?

It felt like Bilbo valued that Ring more than Thorin. Certainly more than the one Thorin had given him.

The door to his chambers was heavy and it took most of Thorin's waning energy to push it open. The outer chamber was warm. The fire had been lit after he left, and it was only half burned. The chair had been pushed in front of the flames and Bilbo was curled up in it.

He was fast asleep. Thorin's hand froze on the door and he rocked uncertainly on his feet. Bilbo had his arms wrapped around his legs and there was a hint of a frown on his sleeping face. He couldn't find peace even in his rest.

Thorin knew that Bilbo trusted and loved him. The hobbit had given up everything to stay at his side in Erebor. He’d opened up about the Ring-the vile and evil thing that it was. It had such a control over the hobbit’s heart and thoughts but he had still told Thorin about it.

It wasn’t without effect on Thorin either. His thoughts were darker when it was near. It made the madness easier to feel, more alluring. It made him jealous and quick to anger.

Thorin pushed the door to their chambers shut and locked it. He slipped his boots off by the door and padded over to the chair as quietly as possible. Bilbo didn't stir, but he did mumble in his sleep. Thorin sank to his knees by the chair and placed his hand on the armrest by Bilbo's. He longed to touch the sleeping hobbit. He craved the comfort of his affection and wanted to be sure of him. He wasn't certain what would happen when Bilbo woke.

He'd have a crick if he staid here though. Surely Bilbo wouldn't be upset if Thorin moved him to the bed? It seemed wrong to just leave him there.

Mind made up, Thorin stood up and placed his hand on Bilbo's. His heart was tripping over it’s beats and the room seemed very thin on air. Still, Bilbo didn't wake and Thorin felt surer.

Bilbo shifted easily under his arms. The hobbit hardly weighed anything in comparison to what Thorin could lift. He glided his hands over the Burglar’s form with care. He scooped him up with one arm behind his back and the other under his knees. Bilbo leaned against him, seeking his warmth while he slept. He nuzzled his cheek against Thorin's tunic and the dwarf's chest squeezed with affection and pain.

He lifted Bilbo up swiftly and heard a strange and solid sounding thunk. A quick glance down revealed it to be Bilbo’s Ring.

Thorin sank back to the ground with Bilbo and slowly reached for it. His fingers trembled and he wondered at his urge to drop the small, golden trinket in his own pocket.

The one comfort  Thorin had had during this entire debacle was that the Ring had not changed the heart of him. He loved Bilbo whether the hobbit was happy, angry, paranoid, sad, or remorseful. Whether Bilbo held him in regard or hated him it did not change the fact that Thorin loved him. Despite his limp and trembling arm, despite the madness that crept in during the dark hours, Thorin Oakenshield continued to love Bilbo Baggins. Nothing changed that fact.

He had been tempted night and day for months on end. He had been consumed by madness and plagued by nightmares. He had fought inner demons that he had never before been aware of, and barely won.

All because he loved. His lust for his golden hoard had changed into a deep love for the hobbit, and that Ring… That golden band had tried to morph his love into something dark and hideous.

And he still wanted the cursed thing. He still felt it calling him. He could hear it in his head, whispering promises of power. Bilbo would be helpless to resist his commands, and no one would ever try to take the hobbit from him. He would be Thorin’s.

The truth was that Thorin simply didn’t need it. He loved Bilbo, and the hobbit loved him. The Ring would simply seek to enslave him. It was already trying to. But Thorin was a dwarf. He was made of sterner stuff.

He would not be dominated.

He would continue to defy it’s call as he had been. He would continue to love Bilbo Baggins and continue to fight against the call of his golden hoard until his last breath.

Thorin stood up and hefted Bilbo in his arms. He clutched the sleeping hobbit to his chest and took a impossible step forward. His consort-to-be felt heavier than a troll, but Thorin was a dwarf. He would carry his beloved onward. He would carry him all the way to Mahal’s halls if he had to.

The Ring remained undisturbed in Bilbo’s pocket. Thorin would not heed it’s call.

-[]-[]-[]-

The day was warm and bright. The sun heated Thorin’s skin and he felt content before he was even fully awake. There was a solid presence laying on his chest, and soft arms were wrapped around his chest in a sleepy embrace.

He didn’t want to wake up. This moment was perfect, and he did not want awarness to destroy it.

“I’m sorry.” Bilbo’s voice drifted through the still air and Thorin purposefully kept his body relaxed. He wasn’t certain Bilbo knew he was awake. “I don’t know why I keep snapping at you.” A hand brushed through his hair and settled on his chest, right above his heart. He hoped it didn’t thump too hard beneath the hobbit’s fingers.

“You’ve been remarkably patient with me. That was something I never expected, and I’m not sure why. I’m not sure of much of anything, obviously. You have an astounding amount of patience with everything but Erebor.”

Bilbo pressed his cheek against Thorin’s chest and the dwarf’s fingers itched to bury themselves in the gold curls. “I’m afraid it’s the Ring, but that seems ridiculous. Like I’m blaming my own shortcomings on something else. The truth is that I’ve never been in a relationship before and it keeps scaring me.”

“You feel so _fiercely,_ Thorin. Everything about you is so passionate that it feels like it could swallow me whole. I don’t know why you chose me either. I’m a hobbit. Just a simple creature of home and comforts. Hardly the type for a king.” The hand over his heart started to trace nonsensical lines and circles.

“I used to dream that you’d kiss me. At night after you’d return to your room I’d lie in bed and imagine that I’d had the courage to sneak into your room and join you in bed.”

Thorin’s pulse spiked. That would have been a very welcome surprise. “Though, to be fair, I wanted to climb into your bed on the quest. Even when you were being a stubborn mule or obstinate prat I still found you desirable.”

That would have made Thorin laugh if he wasn’t trying to pretend to be sleeping. It was so like the hobbit to insult and compliment him at the same time. “I never expected you’d be so noble. I wish I could cure you of the nightmares and stop hurting you.”

“Your presence has done a remarkable job of that, Mizimel.”

Bilbo tensed beside him before pushing himself up to look down at Thorin. The dwarf opened his eyes and smiled at the incredulous hobbit. “Did you just talk? I felt your chest rumbling.” He had an accusing frown on his face and Thorin nodded, his grin refusing to budge.

“Yes, Mizimel. I spoke. Your presence has done a remarkable job of calming my nightmares.”

“You prat. You were listening.” Bilbo dropped back to the bed in a mock sulk. “You could have at least let me know you were awake. I might have apologized for my ghastly behaviour last night in a far more enjoyable manner.”

Thorin wrapped Bilbo close and breathed in his curls. -You have made my morning very enjoyable.- He signed. Bilbo relaxed against him and snorted.

“You are a big sap.”

_-For you.-_

Bilbo hugged him back and nuzzled his neck. “So… what did you find out yesterday? Aside from the _extremely_ disturbing fact that Nikabrik has apparently had contact with Gollum.”

Thorin adjusted Bilbo in his arms so the hobbit could see his lips. The hobbit ended up in his lap with his legs around Thorin’s waist. “That he is disturbed. He said that hobbits, including male hobbits, could bear children. He found the idea appalling and was trying to make certain that we could never have children. He also knew about the Ring.”

Bilbo huffed and gave his curly head a shake. Thorin caught sight of his ear cuff and it made Thorin’s possessive side purr happily to see that Bilbo was marked as his. “Please. It’s common knowledge that hobbit’s are an extremely fertile species. Besides, Fíli is your heir.”

Thorin’s breath whooshed out and he felt a little dizzy. It was true then. Bilbo could bear children. “I-I did not know that.”

Bilbo’s mouth popped open to form a tiny ‘o.’ He blinked and his expression settled into a tender, affectionate, smile. “I’m sorry.” He cupped Thorin’s cheeks and brushed his thumb in the area above his beard line. His eyes were squinting slightly from the width of his smile and his blue-green eyes were full of more emotions than Thorin could decipher. “I thought you hadn’t talked about it because you didn’t want children yet, or you were too busy.”

“It is impossible to be too busy for that, Mizimel.” Thorin’s hands flexed around Bilbo’s waist with the urge to tug him nearer. “And children is something I thought could never be mine.”

Bilbo kissed him, quickly and softly. He kept Thorin’s face cupped in his hands and Thorin felt like he was safe in Bilbo’s care. Yesterday had left his heart bruised and ragged, but he could already feel it mending. Bilbo’s tender ministrations worked wonders. The quiet words he spoke while he thought Thorin was asleep had put the king at ease. He knew what was truly in the hobbit’s heart.

“Then we will discuss it as soon as this business with the Ring is taken care of.” Bilbo rubbed his thumb over Thorin’s cheek again. It never ceased to surprise Thorin how the hobbit’s hands were always warm. “I will not allow there to be any risk to them.”

_Them…_

Images of little curly haired children, with beards and large, furred feet filled his mind and he knew the grin that lifted his lips was probably as sappy as he was forever being accused of. He could imagine them with a mixture of their features. One might have his nose and Bilbo’s smile, or maybe Dís eyes and Bilbo’s button nose.

He was already in love with them, and they hadn’t even been born yet.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... 60 mph winds knocked my power back out last night. It was like a horrible prank. 
> 
> Anyway, Dwobbits! I love them. It's also my personal opinion that Hobbit's are a very estrogen heavy race, what with their general lack of body hair and such. I'm cool with the idea of Bilbo getting pregnant, but if that hinky to you, then you can just skip that plot line.


	19. Chapter 19

Gandalf’s arrival happened in the late morning. Thorin was holding court in the throne room-Bilbo was actually standing at his side for this one which made it remarkably less dull- when the sounds of a ruckus rose up in the outer hall.

A loud crash sounded and five of the guards left the room to see what the commotion was while the rest drew around the throne. Fíli and Kíli leaned against the throne in interest while Bilbo moved closer to Thorin’s side.

“There was a crash.” Thorin narrated. “Some sort of commotion is occurring in the hall.”

“Never a dull moment.” Bilbo lamented. He propped his hand on Sting and Thorin was torn between amusement at Bilbo’s quick action, and worry at what was happening outside. “Windows is what you need. You can’t see anything through that stone.”

“I rather think that’s the intent.” Fíli said, eagerness in his tone. “You don’t want outsiders to know what’s going on in here.”

“Yeah. It’d put a damper on any kinky throne shagging.” Kíli said with a disturbing wink. Bilbo blanched and glared. “Kind of has a bit of a drawback though.”

Thorin ordered him to be quiet as the doors swung open.

“I will enter the throne room without a search, thank you.” Gandalf’s voice boomed throughout the room and Thorin felt his entire body flood with relief and joy.

“Guards! Let him through.” Thorin barked. He stood from his throne and stepped down from the raised platform it sat on. “Gandalf, I did not expect you so soon.”

“Unlike you, Master Oakenshiled, I did not get lost.” Gandalf retorted, and Thorin could hear his nephews and hobbit laugh. He ignored them and the jibe.

“We have much need of your guidance, Tharkûn.”

“Then let us seek someplace more private.” Thorin motioned for his guards to step aside and he lead the way to the smaller room to the side of the throne room. It had a table with several chairs set up. He motioned for one of the guards and sent him to fetch Balin, Dís, Dwalin, and Ori. He took a seat beside Bilbo and dismissed the remaining guards. Gandalf sat across from them and it wasn’t long before the other dwarves arrived. Fíli and Kíli sat on either side of Gandalf and beamed at him to the wizards obviously grudging amusement.

“What is the matter that you sent for me?” Gandalf asked the moment the guard left. Thorin took Bilbo’s hand under the table before he spoke and squeezed it comfortingly.

“First I would ask that everyone signs as they talk. Bilbo can see everyone from his seat, but it is taxing to try and keep track of all conversations. You all know iglishmêk as does Bilbo.” He waited for nods of agreement and brought his own hands to the table top. He directed his gaze to Gandalf and took a calming breath.

“Bilbo was not honest with how he escape the goblins’ cave. Rather, he neglected to tell the truth. While in the vile caverns he came across a small, golden ring. He thought nothing of it at the time. He was more concerned with escaping the creature that dwelled in the cave. A thing known by the name Gollum.”

Gandalf’s expression was unreadable.

“He lost the Ring.” Bilbo explained, taking over the tale. He kept his eyes on Gandalf and had his hand on Thorin’s leg. The fingers trembled slightly as he spoke. “I found it and he offered to show me the way out if I beat him in a game of riddles. If he won… he’d eat me.”

Thorin’s hand fisted on the table. He had not been told that detail. If the abominable creature was in his kingdom, Thorin would see to it that he was disposed of in a painful way.

No one threatened Bilbo.

“-and I followed him out.” Thorin returned his attention to Bilbo’s voice while keeping his eyes trained on Gandalf. “It took me a while to believe that I was invisible, it seemed silly, but it was what it was. I escaped the caves and put the Ring back in my pocket. I forgot about it until Mirkwood.”

“That’s how you got the spiders.” Kíli realized out loud. Bilbo nodded his head. He told the rest of the tale quickly. He explained how the Ring had grown heavy on his mind and that he found himself going almost into a daze every time it was threatened. His temper had shortened, and he always wanted it near.

“That is what is so strange about the trinket. I would dismiss it as another magic ring were it not for that.” Thorin interrupted. Gandalf’s gaze landed on him, and Thorin recognized concern in the wise eyes.

“The Ring has a pull. I can describe it no better than that. It lures one into wanting it, I know not how.”

“Could it be causing your nightmares?” Dís asked quietly by his side. Concern laced her voice and it made Thorin feel slightly less worried.

“I had assumed that was a facet of the madness that runs in our family… Could it be a side effect?”

“Difficult to say… Might I see the Ring, Bilbo?” Gandalf extended his hand across the table and Bilbo, ever so slowly, drew his own hand from his pocket and placed the Ring on Gandalf’s.

He remained tense by Thorin’s side.

It seemed forever before Gandalf spoke again. he turned the band around in his hands, feeling its weight and investigating it from every direction. “I fear this may be dangerous. Far more dangerous than even you suspect.”

“It is similar to the one that my grandfather possessed.” The Wizards gaze flickered to him before returning to the Ring. “It has the same feel of power that was in his ring of power.”

“Aye, that it does laddie.” Balin noted. He leaned forward to scrutinize the ring. “But it is nothing like the dwarvish rings. None of the rings of power were of such simple des… design.” Balin’s voice trailed away and Gandalf lifted his head to meet the dwarf’s gaze.

They were both apparently thinking similar thoughts. Not good thoughts.

“You say the ring is dangerous, far more dangerous than we guess. In what way?' Thorin asked after a moment. Bilbo was almost trembling beside him, and he did not care for waiting.

“Several ways,” he answered vaguely, “It seems more powerful than even I would have ever dared to guess, if half of what you say is true.”

He sat back in his chair and regarded the Ring with a furrowed brow. “'In Eregion long ago many Elven-rings were made, magic rings as you call them, and they were, of course, of various kinds: some more potent and some less. The lesser rings were only essays in the craft before it was full-grown, and to the Elven-smiths they were but trifles, yet still to my mind dangerous for mortals. But the Great Rings, the Rings of Power, they were perilous.”

“Is that the one your grandfather had?” Bilbo directed the question to Thorin and took his hand under the table again. Thorin wrapped it up tight and hooked his foot around Bilbo’s as well.

“Yes. There were seven Rings of Power made for the dwarves.”

“A mortal, Bilbo, who keeps on of the Great Rings does not die.” Gandalf explained, regaining Bilbo’s attention. Thorin firmly squashed the jealousy that attempted to rise at the loss. He was still holding the hobbit’s hand. It was pointless to be jealous. “He merely continues until he is nothing more than weariness. If he uses the Ring to become invisible frequently, he’ll fade into the twilight realm. He’ll be eternally under the eye of the dark power that Rules the Rings. Sooner or later, regardless of how strong willed and well-meaning, he will be devoured by the dark power.”

Bilbo gasped. It was a barely audible noise, and one he almost certainly did not mean to release. His fingers tightened around Thorin’s and the dwarf felt his own chest constrict. He hated hearing Bilbo make those frightened noises,

“What kind of ring is this then? Why should it devour him in darkness?” Thorin demanded. “There was but one Ring that could do such, and it and its master were _destroyed_.”

Gandalf passed the Ring back to Bilbo who took it quickly, with a hand that trembled. “I would not suggest you keep it in your pocket. It could easily be lost there, but do not slip it on your finger!.” Gandalf advised. Bilbo looked at him blankly and Thorin had an idea. He pulled a gold chain off his neck and plucked the large jewel off it. He passed it to Bilbo who stared at in confusion for a moment before smiling. He slipped the Ring onto the chain and looped it around his neck. It was far too long and hung almost to his belly button. He tucked it under his vest and gave Thorin a thankful smile.

“You have not answered my question, Wizard.” Thorin said, keeping his eyes on Bilbo.

“I am not certain what ring this is. Nonetheless, all Rings of Power, save the three elven ones, were betrayed to the One and have fallen under its power. They are slaves to it, and it alone.”

“What must we do then?”

“I am uncertain.” Gandalf steepled his fingers together and gazed at each of the present dwarves and hobbit over the top of them. “Others will try and take the Ring. It has a powerful and alluring presence.”

“Only those in this room, and that creature, know that he possesses it. I will pass a law that any who are caught harming or robbing my Consort-to-be will be killed. With the recent threats no one will think it strange. As for the creature, Gollum, I am uncertain how he made contact with Nikabrik. He has found a way into Erebor. I can only assume he heard the goblins talking about our arrival and departure and decided to find us here.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened in mild surprise but Gandalf nodded his head. “Such an order will discourage unwanted attention. It seems only likely that he did hear rumor of Erebor. If he heard the Ring's location, he would be most eager to win it back." Gandalf let out a deep breath and looked between Bilbo and Thorin. "I would start by finding the creature and uncovering more about the Ring. Have your guards been put on alert of the creature Gollum?”

“Of course.” Thorin said in mild annoyance. He was not some dwarfling. He had put the guards on alert the moment Nikabrik admitted that he’d spoken to him while he was in Erebor. Bilbo’s guard had even been doubled. He was surrounded only by guards that Dwalin trusted as well.

“I have friends nearby that are skilled in tracking. I will seek their aid. It will take less than a day to secure them.”

“You are free to do whatever you need. Show Dwalin your friends and he will give them unrestricted access to Erebor.”

Dwalin’s eyes widened at that and Thorin very carefully kept his expression resolved. He was opening a dwarf kingdom to outsiders, ones he did not even know the race of.

Nikabrik would go insane. He would take great pleasure in making sure he knew.

“Then we shall dismiss for the day. I will be swift in my return.” He stood up and the dwarves joined him. He laid a heavy hand on Bilbo’s shoulders and Thorin felt himself stiffen. “Have peace, Mellon. We will learn what this evil is, and you will not succumb.”

Bilbo smiled up at him, his eyes large and teary and Thorin wanted to tear the wizard’s hands off his hobbit’s shoulders.

Gandalf let go and stepped back. “Look for my coming at first light tomorrow.” And then he was striding out of the room leaving several quiet, pensive dwarves in his wake.

“Do you know anything else about this Ring?” Balin demanded once the doors were again closed. Thorin sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. He could already feel a sharp pain that promised a long headache.

“Only that it shortens our tempers and makes us not ourselves.” Thorin replied. Bilbo sat on the edge of his chair, as near to Thorin as he could without sitting in his chair. He wrapped his hand back around the hobbit’s smaller one and felt him relax.

“How so?”

Mahal. This could be embarrassing. His closest friends were about to learn about his shortcomings. About his constant desire for his hobbit, and the need to make sure that all knew who he belonged to. He always wanted to take him in front of others so that they would know he was utterly Thorin’s, while he also wanted to cover Bilbo head to toe so that no one else could ever see what was Thorin’s.

He also wanted to be rid of the emotion. He wanted to be free from the dark thoughts. He trusted Bilbo. He wanted the hobbit to know it.

“Jealousy.” Bilbo answered mildly. Thorin fought a blush at the knowing looks he received. They were probably thinking that Bilbo had barely scratched the surface. Even they knew that saying it was ‘jealousy’ was being kind. “Thorin also suffers from worse nightmares when its near. He gets… darker? The  madness is nearer. I become paranoid and rude. I think about it constantly and worry that its gone. I also seem to think more about power…” Bilbo’s voice trailed off and Thorin opened his eyes. He looked to his side and saw that Bilbo’s free hand was hovering over his chest where the Ring was. He took the hand in his own.

“Things like that happen. I swear it can talk.”

“We will make sure no one knows of anything that was spoken about in this room.” Dwalin declared. He walked to the door stiffly. “I’ll set another platoon of soldiers to search the ground. Bilbo? I think it would be best for you to remain by Thorin’s side today. We can have both your guards keep an eye on you that way. If that trinkets powerful enough to steal your gazes, then anyone is susceptible.” He tugged the door open and stepped outside.

It was going to be a long day.

-[]-[]-[]-

“I’m scared.” Were the first words out of Bilbo’s mouth when Thorin finally pushed the bar down on their chamber door that evening. It was the first time they were alone since they’d met with Gandalf.

It made his heart ache.

He opened his arms and Bilbo surged forward, wrapping his own arms around Thorin’s chest. He held the hobbit as tightly as he could without hurting him, and wished that he’d never found the Ring. Bilbo had never done anything in his life to deserve such sorrow.

“I don’t want to be devoured. I don’t want it but I can’t get rid of it!” Bilbo wept, shaking slightly.

Thorin set him down in front of the fire and knelt in front of him. “Mizimel, fear not. We will not leave you. I will not let you be consumed by the darkness.” He clasped both of Bilbo’s hands in his own, desperate to make him feel safe again. He was not much of a dwarf if he could not even provide his lover that. “I will save you as you have saved me, beloved.”

“You hardly need saving, Thorin.” Bilbo’s voice barely shook, but his eyes were still too wide. “I’m afraid I’ve harmed you more than helped.”

Thorin had to work to make sure his fingers didn’t tighten around Bilbo to the point of pain. The hobbit had never been so wrong in his life. “Sanzeuh,” he breathed out, his voice cracking, “you are so very wrong. You freed me from the madness, and have kept me so. You give me your love, something I am not worthy of, and you have forgiven me for causing the loss of your hearing.”

“But you’re not scared…” Bilbo murmured, refusing to believe what Thorin was telling him. He was reading Thorin’s lips, but he was clearly not understanding the words.

“Bilbo, what makes you think I am not scared?” There was nothing that scared Thorin more than losing Bilbo. Even the madness did not seem so terrifying as that. He would welcome the madness if he lost Bilbo. It would be the only way for him to find peace short of death.

“You’re confident. Confident isn’t scared.”

Thorin raised his eyebrow and regarded Bilbo heavily for a long moment. Was it really that simple? “Confidence is manufactured. It is something that comes with experience. I have had a lifetime to create it.”

“You’re scared?” Bilbo asked, utterly bewildered. Thorin could have laughed.

“Yes, beloved. Am I not constantly jealous of you? What is jealousy but a fear of loss? Losing you is a fear that never leaves.” The tremble in his voice would be heard by none but himself. He could be thankful for small favors at least. The only witnesses to his weakness was himself. The silence of the night and the silence around Bilbo. He clung to Bilbo's hand. He wanted to whisk the hobbit away from this. To take him somewhere far from this madness. Some place where the hobbit's eyes would sparkle again.

For a wild moment he imagined returning him to the Shire. Back to the hobbit hole he loved so much and far away from any dwarves that might try to harm him. Bilbo would be able to live out his days peacefully there.

His days… He only had another sixty or so years. Far less than Thorin had. Thorin would have to live another eighty years at least. Bilbo did not have a hope of living as long as him. He would have to continue without his love for a long time.

Not if he had the Ring. Gandalf had said that the Ring gave their owners long li-

No. He could not allow himself the thought. No matter how tempting it might be, he could not let himself consider it. The Ring would consume his hobbit. Thorin would be able to keep him his entire life, but at the cost of Bilbo’s soul.

He would bear a lonely, dark future alone before he let that happen. “Gandalf will return tomorrow and he will-”

The entire room shook around the two. The ground rumbled and horrible noise filled the air. Thorin fell to his side while Bilbo slumped forward in the chair, barely catching himself before he fell out of the chair. Before Thorin could even suck in a breath of air another shock threw across the floor.

Then everything grew silent as Thorin exhaled. A heartbeat, and shouts filled the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Pie day, everyone!


	20. Chapter 20

“Stay here, Bilbo!” Was the last thing Thorin had barked before he fled the room. Bilbo had no idea what had just happened, other than that the room had shook and Thorin had made to cover his ears before he fell.

That had been at least an hour ago.

Bilbo still lingered in the middle of the room, shuffling his feet unsurely. He didn’t know what to do. He should stay put, Thorin had requested it of him after all. The dwarf would also panic and be incapable of focusing on anything else if he found out Bilbo wasn’t in his room. Bilbo would become the center of his focus, instead of whatever the problem actually was.

However, Bilbo did not want to just sit by while problems did occur.

He wasn't a helpless hobbit. He was a knight in his own rights. He'd saved every dwarf in the company more than once and he'd helped save Erebor. He'd faced a _dragon_ and he'd stolen a unbelievably valuable stone right under the eyes of the king.

He didn't want to hide away. He wanted to help Thorin and his friends. His _family_.

There was still Gollum to think about. He was loose somewhere in the Kingdom, and he had Nikabrik as an allie. Who knew who else he might have drawn to his side. All he'd had to do to secure Nikabrik's loyalties was mention the fact that Bilbo could bear children. The mere possibility of a half-breed had made the dwarf betray his king.

Bilbo walked to the door before drawing back. He just didn't know what to do. He couldn't risk endangering himself, or, Yavanna forbid, the Ring.

He couldn't stay and do nothing. The silence would drive him mad.

Bilbo took another step back and looked around the room, hoping for inspiration. Sting was laying on the table, unassuming and small, and it struck Bilbo with inspiration. He hurried across the floor to their bedroom and went straight to the wardrobe. He tugged it open impatiently and shuffled through the clothes inside until he came to a delicate white shirt. It was smooth to the touch and cool as a jewel. It shimmered with each movement and was lighter than any other maile shirt.

Mithril. He hadn't had a cause to wear it yet. It was worth more than anything else he owned. Not that he was supposed to know that fact. Thorin would be furious if he knew that Bilbo was aware of it's value. He loved giving Bilbo expensive things without letting Bilbo know that they were expensive. He wanted to clothe Bilbo in precious metals and gems.

It slipped on easily, as smooth and slick as silk. It was cool against his skin and his shirt covered it. No one just looking would have any idea that he was wearing armor.

He closed the door and slipped the Ring and the chain it was on under his mithril shirt. The metal was shockingly cold against his chest, and felt heavy.

Painfully so.

He momentarily fancied slipping it on so he could sneak about the kingdom unnoticed. Gandalf's warnings about fading into the twilight realm still rang in his ears, and he did not want to be devoured.

He went back to the outer chamber and took Sting up off the table. He belted it on and slipped the smaller dagger Thorin had gifted him into a secret pocket on his trousers.

The walkway was empty. Bilbo couldn't see anyone above or below him either. He hated peering over the edge, but it didn't make a difference.

He had no idea where to go. Whatever the thing that had caused the tremors was, it had come from the lower levels. That was where Thorin would likely be.

He took a left and walked in a crouch. He didn't want to be seen, and didn't mind if he looked a bit silly. Hobbits were able to pass unseen by most creatures, but the kingdom would be on alert.

Short of donning his Ring, he doubted he could sneak by unseen. He had the ring Thorin gave him, the bracelet, ear cuff, and hair clasp that all declared him as the king's intended. He also had the ring that declared him a knight of the realm.

Not to mention he was the only hobbit in Erebor. They couldn't exactly mistake him for anyone else. He had status equal to Thorin. If they didn't know he'd been ordered to stay behind they'd let him through anywhere.

But Bilbo wasn't going to bank his current freedom on the guards not having been ordered to keep him in his room.

He made it down a staircase and around a hall before he spotted trouble. A guard was marching ahead and surveying the halls. Bilbo ducked into the shadows and considered his options. He could act like he was on a mission and storm pass the guard. He could just casually stroll by him and be friendly as usual. Or he could try and sneak by.

The first two depended on the guard not knowing that he was supposed to be in-

A strong hand grasped Bilbo's shoulder and jerked him back. He clamped his mouth shut to hold in any noise he might have made and scrambled to get a better grip on Sting. He was unceremoniously spun around and pushed against the wall.

"You are likely to be killed if you sneak about like that!"

"Gandalf!" Bilbo breathed, his eyes wide and his heart hammering in his chest. He felt like a cornered rabbit. Beorn would have laughed in delight. He pulled Sting closer to his chest and tried to regain control of his breathing. The wizard had lost his hat at some point and was bent down so that his face was closer to Bilbo's. "You're early!"

It felt like an obvious, and somewhat stupid, thing to say but Bilbo couldn't think of anything else.

"I am not. I am a wizard. I always arrive precisely when I mean to. Though that is of no matter right now. My friends were drawing near to the kingdom before I even left the throne room. I sent a particularly verbose thrush to them when I heard the first rumor of a strange creature loose in Erebor."

"So they're already here?" Gandalf nodded his head and urged Bilbo forward with a hand on his arm. He was leading Bilbo down the hall towards the throne room.

"Yes. They're searching the lower levels currently. They found tracks." Bilbo was pushed to the left and he went. He wasn't certain why Gandalf was taking them to the Throne room's outer chamber but he knew better than to question the wizard when he wore that particular expression.

“What happened?”

“An explosion occurred in the forges.”

Bilbo gasped and stopped dead in his tracks. Half of his friends were down there! “B-”

“There were no casualties.” Gandalf interrupted before Bilbo could get anything out around the lump in his throat. “I suspect it was sabotage.” He urged Bilbo forward again and Bilbo went on numb feet.

His head spun. Who would want to bring the forges down? That was what they were using to rebuild the kingdom. It would stop any forward efforts. Dale and Erebor would be unable to continue restoration until they were back up.

“When the explosion occurred I made my way to the upper levels to check on the prisoners. As I suspected, Nikabrik was not in his cell. His guard had been strangled.” Bilbo tripped and very nearly fell. Gandalf caught him before he could and straightened him without ever breaking his stride.

"Since he is loose, he will likely be searching for you. He is quite bent on getting rid of you."

“I am _never_ having you over for tea again.” Bilbo declared to the world. They were on the level with the throne room now. It was still remarkably empty. “My life was delightfully quiet and simple before I met you.”

“Your life was dull and you were itching for an adventure. It is not my fault that you found a bit more of one than you intended. You are the one who fell in love with a dwarf.”

Bilbo glared at Gandalf. “You took a Took and put him on a mad quest after a dragon. Who else was I going to fall in love with? Why are we going to the throne room? If Nikabrik is after me I should think he’d look there.”

“We are not going to the throne room.” Gandalf stated. He stopped in front of an antechamber and motioned for Bilbo to join him. “Nikabrik will not be looking for you here. He is going to search for you at your room. I suspect he started with the garden. I will count us lucky if he does not attempt to burn it.”

"I don’t understand why he hates me. I was perfectly polite to him." Bilbo said as Gandalf fiddled with the locked door . "I only ever met him once." He reached into his pocket and pulled a key out. It opened the throne room so it should work on the antechamber. Gandalf took it with a raised eyebrow that made it quite clear that Bilbo should have led with the offer of the key.

"He is a traditional dwarf. He doesn't agree with sharing the secrets of their race with any outsiders. He was also extremely displeased to hear that hobbits could bear children."

"It's not like I'm pregnant and popping out little dwobbits!" Bilbo huffed. Gandalf pushed the door open and Bilbo stepped inside. Gandalf shut the door behind him and murmured something over the door before pressing his staff against it. A green light drifted over the door before sinking into the stone.

"But you will be." Gandalf said once he was facing Bilbo again. The hobbit blushed and promptly cursed his Baggins side. “Dwobbits?”

"It's only a possibility. And that was what Fíli and Kíli decided to call our imaginary children."

"A possibility that you have nothing to be ashamed of. You are well within your right to have a child. Or many children. The dwarf is quite mad." Gandalf went to the small table in the center of the room and bent over it. He looked like an adult playing at a child's table. Bilbo felt absurdly small suddenly.

"Now, we haven't much time. News of Nikabrik’s escape will have spread by now and Thorin will discover that you are not in your room. He’ll check the garden and then be here any minute and I am afraid that he simply cannot know of what we're about to discuss." Gandalf laid papers out as he spoke. He pulled them from inside of his cloak and Bilbo took a moment to wonder where the wizard hid everything he carried. "If it works according to my plans, then we will be able to be rid of Thorin's madness and Nikabrik at the same time. The Ring's origins will be revealed, and my associates will hopefully capture Gollum."

Bilbo looked at the papers Gandalf had laid out. There were maps of Erebor-old and new-something written in a language Bilbo did not recognize, and what looked to be a plan for the throne. "Is it complicated?"

Gandalf shared a look with Bilbo over the papers. A hint of a smile momentarily quirked his lips up. "Horribly."

"Will it fail?"

"It is likely to."

Bilbo looked back at the papers and shrugged. Why not. He had a wizard, a cursed Ring, a half-mad dwarf, a disturbing creature, and a possessive lover coming for him. He'd take a complicated-likely-to-fail-plan over nothing any day. "Then we best get started. What must I do?"

The hint became a full smile and Gandalf straightened. “Drive Thorin to madness.”

That hardly seemed a promising start.

-[]-[]-[]-

Horribly complicated was being polite. Gandalf was brilliant, and Bilbo had no idea how he managed to keep track of so many different factors at once.

All Bilbo had to do was get the Arkenstone and then return to the antechamber. It was remarkably simple.

He stepped into the throne room with a calm, collected air. There was only one guard present and he looked horribly uncertain. He was hardly of age and Bilbo decided to use that to his advantage. He marched straight up to the throne with nothing more than a head nod and stepped up on top of the platform. The guards eyes followed him as he clambered up the throne and stood on its cushion. He pressed the button that released the Arkenstone and caught the shimmering gem before pocketing it.

He climbed back down and marched right out of the throne room. The guard watched him go without saying a word. He had large eyes and looked worried but he didn't even try to stop him.

Thorin was right, confidence was an act. If he looked like he was supposed to take the Arkenstone, they wouldn't stop him.

Being the King's Consort-to-be also had a lot of perks.

He slipped back into the antechamber and pocketed the precious stone. It brought a strong sense of deja vu.

He'd come full circle. Thorin was going to go insane and he was stealing the ruddy stone.

Now he just had to wait for Gandalf to return. He'd go over Bilbo's next step and they'd put the 'plan' into action. Thorin would find him on the floor, unconscious, and be told that it was Nikabrik's doing. He would hear that Gollum 'had' the Arkenstone, and go into a berserk. Hopefully. Gandalf had something clever planned at that point that involved Gollum and Nikabrik both getting caught by Thorin. Bilbo was a bit fuzzy on that part.

He sat himself on the table facing the door. He wouldn't be able to hear someone approaching, but he'd see the knob move.

It took about ten minutes for the knob to finally move. Bilbo hopped off the table top and rushed to the door.

"Gandalf," he said as he tugged it open, "I was worried you weren't-" He cut himself off abruptly and took a step back.

It wasn't Gandalf.

Nikabrik's aged face was spread in a fierce smile that instantly chilled Bilbo's blood. He took a step back and lost his balance. He stumbled to the ground and Nikabrik surged at him. He kicked his stomach and followed it immediately with a kick to the face that had Bilbo coughing up blood. The dwarf stole his sword and pointed the tip at his face.

He lowered his face right beside Bilbo's, who was curled on his side trying to find breath, and glared. "Stand." The tip of his sword pressed against his throat and Bilbo grew utterly still. He spit out a mouth full of blood and stared up at the dwarf with blurry eyes.

This was actually happening. He was being kidnapped by a crazy dwarf.

He pushed himself up slowly, with wobbly limbs. His entire chest burned and his head felt a little woozy. His nose throbbed and he could still taste blood. It was all horribly disorienting, and terrifying.

The sword smacked his arm and Bilbo recoiled in surprise. "You will walk backwards!" Nikabrik ordered. He moved so that he was in front of Bilbo. "I won't have you disobeying an order because you're deaf." Nikabrik's fierce smile turned to more of a sneer. "The King should have at least found a hobbit that was whole. You are nothing but a body to bear his filthy, half-breed, progeny.

Bilbo strongly considered spitting on the dwarf. The Ring was heavy around his neck and it urged him to just slip it on his finger. He could disappear and escape from the dwarf.

The Ring… A ring… something to let the others know he had been there. Something Thorin would see and know was his.

He slipped the ring Thorin had given him at the start of their courtship off his finger and held it in his fist.

"Back!" Spittle flew from the dwarf's lips and Bilbo watched it fall from the air in morose fascination. His mind felt odd. It was almost detached, and everything was still fuzzy around the edges. His lungs hurt and he was worried he might have a broken rib. It felt like when he had woken up after the battle. His nose was certainly broken. He still had all his teeth, thankfully.

He took a careful step back and managed not to fall over. He took another one, trusting that his memory would save him from falling off the edge of the walkway.

It was hardly reassuring.

He followed Nikabrik's directions with a slowly clearing mind. They were heading down a level, to the hall of kings. He wasn't certain why.

They didn’t stop until they were in front of a meeting room outside the King’s hall.

"No one knows we are here, omelekun." Nikabrik laughed. He thrust Bilbo backward so that he fell on the floor with a jarring thud. The stones were painful against his knees and hands. He could feel the collision all the way through his body. His teeth even shook. It made his damaged chest and broken nose sing with pain and he had to clamp his mouth shut to keep from screaming. He prayed to Yavanna and Mahal that he hadn’t made any noise. He didn’t want to give Nikabrik the satisfaction.

It was the perfect opportunity though. He let his ring drop on the ground.

He got his feet back under himself as quickly as he could and staggered back up with the assistance of the wall.

This was not good. This was beyond not good. This was a bloody disaster. No one knew where they were, he had the Ring, and the Arkenstone, and the dwarf was the most prejudiced creature Bilbo had ever had the displeasure of meeting.

Thorin would be fit to kill by now.

He should not have listened to Gandalf's plan. Gandalf's plans never worked. They always ended up with everybody running for their lives and stabbing at whatever was chasing them with whatever they could find while running. He just hoped the part of the plan where Thorin rescued him would work.

"Stop, this is far enough." He tugged the door open and shoved Bilbo through. It was one that Bilbo had never been in before. It had a circular table at the center of the room, and a fireplace on the far wall. A warm flame was burning in it, and Bilbo imagined this would be a nice room to read in at another time.

He managed to catch himself on the table and used it to once again regain his balance.

“Unclothe yourself, maggot.” Nikabrik demanded. He pointed the tip of Sting at Bilbo’s throat and the hobbit felt his jaw pop from how tightly he was clenching it.

“Why?” He demanded. He wouldn’t roll over just because he had a sword (his own bloody sword) pointed at his throat.

“I will not have you hiding any more secrets. I know of your armor.”

Of course.

Bilbo unbuttoned his shirt as slowly as possible. There was blood on it. The red stood out in stark contrast to the white. It reminded him of the tents after the battle. He’d seen countless blood soaked bandages…

No! He needed to focus. What could he do? Gandalf’s plan had been completely derailed with the appearance of Nikabrik. The dwarf didn’t seem to know that he had the Arkenstone in his pocket. He would have no idea about the Ring either. He could leave the Arkenstone where it was, but he’d have to get the Ring off less he asked what it was.

The last button came undone and Bilbo slid the soft cotton from his shoulders with a shrug. He set it neatly on the floor, managing not to lament its soon to be wrinkly state, and glared at Nikabrik. The dwarf motioned him on.

And here was the problem. He'd have to do this perfectly if Nikabrik was to remain in the dark about the Ring. He could leave it in the shirt if he was only able to get the Ring off without Nikabrik seeing it. Which meant it had to come off with the armor.  

Bilbo slipped his arms out of his sleeves, thankful for how loose the shirt was, and how long the chain was. It was lucky that they had been both made for a dwarf. He tugged the bottom of the shirt up slowly and caught the Ring with the hem. He shrugged the back over his head and set both onto the floor. The Ring and it's chain remained hidden in the shirt.

"Trousers as well! I won't risk anything!"

Bilbo really couldn't glare hard enough to convey how utterly much he hated this dwarf. He unbuttoned his trousers and let them fall to the ground. He stepped out of them and then scooped all his clothing up. He made to deposite it on the table in a neat pile.

“No, the floor.” Bilbo set it back on the floor and straightened with the darkest look he could manage. “Against the far wall.” In nothing but his smalls, he moved to the back wall and crossed his arms defiantly over his chest.

He was going to take Thorin to bed the minute they were done. He would tie Thorin down and ride his dwarf until he was pregnant.

With twins.

He was going to do whatever it took to make this dwarf as livid as he was. He would then continue to pop out dwobbits until there were at least a dozen running around. He’d even find other hobbits in want of an adventure and marry them to dwarves. They’d have a hundred dwobbits in the kingdom by the time he was done.

They could take care of Nikabrik themselves. They’d have the right.

“Now,” Nikabrik said with a wild grin, “I will show the king what your proper place is.” He stepped closer and began to unfasten his cloak.

Bilbo’s jaw unlocked and he let out a scream.


	21. Chapter 21

_"None the less it may well be, as the Dwarves now believe, that Sauron by his arts had discovered who had this Ring,_  
 _The last to remain free, and that the singular misfortunes of the heirs of Durin were largely due to his malice._  
 _For the Dwarves had proved untameable by this means._  
 _The only power that the Rings wielded was to inflame their hearts with a greed of gold and precious things,_  
 _So that if they lacked them all other good things seemed profitless,_  
And they were filled with wrath and desire for vengeance on all who deprived them.  
 _But they were made from their beginning of a kind to resist most steadfastly any domination._  
 _Though they could be slain or broken, they could not be reduced to shadows enslaved to another will;_  
 _And for the same reason their lives were not affected by the Ring, to live either longer or shorter because of it."_  
 _-Appendix A, p. 1051, Return of the King_

* * *

 

The dwarf in front of Thorin was actually shaking. It had been amusing to behold when he first came to stand in front of him.

Dwalin's expression had promptly robbed the situation of any and all humor.

The furnace's explosion had been violent-obviously if it was felt through the entire kingdom-and it had demanded his entire attention for at least two hours.

It was late and he was tired. A faint nagging in the back of his mind had him wondering about his hobbit, but he dismissed it. Bilbo would not have left. He knew how much Thorin needed him to stay still.

No. It had to be some other horrible occurrence. Something else had been broken. All his company was here, as was his sister. They were all working to help clear the rubble, but he could see them all from his current location.

"I-I bring news, my lord." The dwarf dropped to his knees and trembled openly. Thorin met Dwalin's gaze with a raised eyebrow and Dwalin gave his head a tiny shake. His grimace didn't budge. Thorin's stomach dropped.

"Yes?"

"Nikabrik-" The dwarf's words choked off with a violent coughing hack. Thorin's skin began to crawl and the nagging in his mind that it might be Bilbo in trouble, grew louder. "Nikabrik has escaped his cell."

The dwarf's trembling grew more pronounced and Thorin just knew it was something with Bilbo. He'd dispatched a group of seven guards to tend to his hobbit earlier, but he hadn't heard back from them. Surely they would have told him if-

"Sir Bilbo is not in your chambers, nor is he in his garden."

“We’ve already sent out three squadrons of guards to look for him.” Dwalin said.

"Gandalf has arrived with his friends. Rangers of the north. They've started searching the lower levels. They found tracks." Balin added quietly. "We have guards looking for Gandalf as well. He may have seen Bilbo."

Thorin nodded his head and took a step back. He glanced at Dwalin and Balin before turning and, without a single word, leaving the room. He didn't stop walking until he was several hundred feet away in a completely separate room.

His fist collided with the wall the moment Dwalin and Balin joined him. He left his hand in the indentation, stone dust falling around his fist. He could feel where his skin had split and blood was now trickling. It throbbed and made his entire arm vibrate.

It was not nearly enough to draw his attention away from his stuttering heart. His legs trembled and pressure was building in his chest. Such an intense tightness that he couldn't breathe around it. He needed to release it to the world, and punching had not worked.

He threw his head back and bellowed  his rage. He fisted his hands and verbalized his fury, frustration, and fear. Darkness licked at his mind, want of power. He was so  _tired_ of not having any control. Everything kept happening to him and he had to react while other people did the same. They were taking his options away, trying to dictate what he did. His own blood betrayed him daily, trying to drive him to madness with its sweet call. Even a simple  _ring_ wished to control his actions.

Why couldn't his hobbit just stay in the room? Did he have to defy every request? Now they had no idea where he was and Nikabrik would be after him! Bilbo could already be in danger...

Thorin dropped his head. He had nothing left but the persistent ache in his chest. Balin stepped nearer to Thorin but the king didn't have the will to lift his head. It would have meant meeting Balin’s gaze, and acknowledging that Bilbo was really in danger.

A hand pressed against his upper arm in an attempt at comfort. Thorin didn't need to be comforted. He needed to break something. He was swimming in adrenaline. Nothing had even happened yet. There were guards all over looking for Bilbo. He would be found.

He was needed back with the others. He had to be a king, not a lover.

Thorin raised his head and stood straight. He exhaled slowly and felt a horrible weight settle on his shoulders. His thoughts raged around what to do, and Bilbo being harmed by Nikabrik. He firmly shoved all thoughts of his intended to the back of his mind and focused on catching the criminal, dousing the fires, and assessing the damages.

He walked forward and tried to breathe around the pain in his throat that would not be gone until Bilbo was back at his side.

The door flew open before he could take another step. Fili rushed in with wide eyes, a guard following him. “Uncle,” He gasped out. He motioned the ginger guard forward urgently. “He saw Bilbo!”

“Where?” Thorin tried to keep the growl out of his voice and hoped he didn’t look too threatening. He needed the guard to talk, not tremble.

“In the throne room, majesty.” The guard blurted before dropping to his knees. “I am sorry.”

“Do not be. He is my Consort and has freedom to go wherever he wishes. Was he alone?”

“Yes. He took the Arkenstone.”

What? Why would he need the Arkenstone? He had no love for the jewel, and would not have touched it for any reason short of an order from Thorin.

Gandalf… The wizards must have had a plan for it. Thorin could no longer just wait around. He would go investigate first hand.

“Fili, Balin, take over here.Dwalin, find the Wizard.” Thorin marched forward while he barked the orders out. “I’m going to the throne room.” He left the hall with the other dwarves, and they all split off to go where he had ordered them.

Thorin was taking control.

-[]-[]-[]-

He didn’t make it to the throne room.

On the level of the King’s hall he heard a scream, faint and distant, but it was clearly coming from one of the side rooms.

Bilbo’s ring was laying on the floor, and Thorin nearly fell to the floor as the pieces clicked into place. He knew, without knowing at all _why_ he knew, that it was Bilbo screaming.

He kicked the door open and rushed into the room with Orcrist unsheathed and ready.

The room wasn’t that large and Thorin wasn’t certain what it would have actually been used for. It had a circular table at its center that had three wooden chairs. A large fireplace was on the far wall and had a fire burning in it. It heated the room up pleasantly and was the only source of light. Nikabrik was standing in front of the flames with Sting in his hands, and he was advancing on a trapped Bilbo. He’d removed his cloak and was working on the front of his breeches.

Bilbo was in nothing but his smalls, and looked more terrified than Thorin had ever seen. His nose and cheek was swollen, and there was blood smeared all across his face. His chest was purpling in a large bruise, and his knees were scuffed.

Nikabrik pressed forward as Thorin entered the room and grabbed Bilbo by the arm. He spun him around and tugged him to stand in front of his chest. He pressed the small sword to the hobbit’s throat and leered.

“Majesty!” He scoffed while Bilbo gasped. Thorin was having difficulty forcing air into his lungs. He was certain he was going to be sick from the amount of disgust and horror swimming in his stomach.

He’d just walked in on Nikabrik preparing to _rape_ his Consort. He’d known the other dwarf despised his choice, but to go to such extents…

He had no idea the darkness he was messing with. The madness, with its dark, silky voice was already rising up. With such an onslaught that Thorin was having trouble thinking past anything but its call. It would be all he needed to end this dwarf who would dare to touch what was his.

Bilbo was _his_. Thorin’s to touch, Thorin’s to hold and taste. Only _Thorin_ was allowed to take pleasure from the hobbit, and only Thorin was allowed to be so near to him. Nikabrik would have died for even thinking about his hobbit in such away.

For going to the point of actually trying? Nikabrik would be burned and his name struck from all records. He would disappear like smoke on the wind.

The rage, fury, hate, wrath, outrage-there was no word in the tongue of men, elves, or dwarves, to describe the anger boiling in his stomach and bubbling through all his veins. Bilbo was scared and almost naked. He was being humiliated and frightened by someone who was not fit to lick the floor he had walked on.

It seemed as if there were a million thoughts fluttering through his head. All flying by too quick to focus on, save one.

Nikabrik was too close to Bilbo, and he was going to die.

“What is the meaning of this?” He kept his voice steady and calm, trying to keep himself from instantly meeting Bilbo’s eyes. He could see his hobbit trembling, and wasn’t sure what he would do if he looked full at him.

He would certainly be utterly unable to control himself.

“It should be quite obvious.” NIkabrik growled. He tugged Bilbo nearer and pressed his bearded cheek against Bilbo’s bruised one. “I was showing the Halfling what his only use is.”

Thorin circled the room as Nikabrik spoke. The dwarf took a step in the opposite direction with each step Thorin took. The king kept his eyes locked on Nikabrik with deadly intent. He stepped on something cool that shifted under his boot. A quick glance down revealed it to be Bilbo’s discarded clothes.

There was something lumpy in the shirt.

Thorin bent down and lifted up the mithril shirt.  He tried to make it look like he was considering the material in anger. The Ring and a shimmering stone fell out of it. His hand shook as he looked at the items. The Arkenstone… Why had Bilbo grabbed it?

He took the stone and left the Ring. He needed to think, and the Ring would have the madness take entirely over.

“Release him.” Thorin’s voice took on a deep quality he’d never heard in it before. He could almost hear the madness of his family reflected in it.

“I will not!” Nikabrik hissed, his grey eyes bugging out, “Do you think I don’t know the rules of our land? Giving him over will forfeit my life!”

“It is already forfeit. You will not leave this room.” Nikabrik took a half step back, taking Bilbo with him.

“You would risk him?”

“I would save him. Have no doubt that the damage you’ve already caused him will mean your end.”

“Why him? Why not a dwarf? Why would you share all we are with another race? He is less than us! You would ruin all that we are? Why not just ravish him on the side? Wed a true dwarf and sleep with this… _hobbit_ when it suits you.”

“Because he is greater than any dwarf I have ever met. You think him below us? Then you are utterly blind to true value.” Thorin breathed deeply and allowed himself the briefest of glances at Bilbo. The hobbit held his gaze steadily with a confidence that marveled Thorin. Bilbo truly believed he would save him.

Desperation curled in Thorin’s stomach. He had to think! The fog of madness curling around his mind and the quick flying thoughts were making it impossible.

“Then you will watch him die.” The dwarf pressed the sword closer to Bilbo, and his hobbit twitched. Thorin fisted his hand and remembered the gem gripped in it.

The stone was warm in Thorin’s hand. He’d grown up looking at its wonder. The dancing colors had been more entertaining than the greatest stories his father could tell. Thror would set him on his knee while he worked through court duties and Thorin would watch the colors merge and sway and seem alive in their movements.

It was the most valuable jewel in their kingdom. Nothing else like it had ever been found. It was the very heart of his people. The one thing that united all dwarves. It had been what he risked Bilbo’s life for. He’d had to have it to retake Erebor.

It was warm and full of memories and so very precious to Thorin.

Bilbo wasn’t making a single sound. He was standing perfectly still in front of Nikabrik. He didn’t even flinch as the sword pressed closer to his throat. There was a trickle of blood trailing down his face and the red of it stood out in stark contrast to his pale skin. He looked so vulnerable in his nearly naked state, but he still stood tall.

Thorin gripped the Arkenstone tighter and leveled his gaze with Nikabrik. “You would have me watch you murder my consort?”

“Your intended, not your consort. You are not married yet.” The blade pressed closer and Bilbo winced against it. Thorin saw the future he’d dreamt of the previous morning. He could see Bilbo in five or so years, heavy with child while he sang a lullaby to a little boy that had his blue-green eyes and Thorin’s dark hair. Another scene flashed before his eyes a moment later. One he’d imagined late the night Bilbo had asked to be included in his dreams.

Bilbo was carrying a pitcher full of water, the contents of which he was slowly pouring over a flowering plant in his garden. He was wearing a simple white tunic and green breeches. His bare toes curled into the grass happily and his lips were curled in a contented smile. His eyes were wrinkled around the edges with age, and his golden curls were mostly silver.  Thorin was coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around the hobbit’s slightly plump stomach. His own hair was a light gray and he had more than a few wrinkles of his own. The fantasy him leaned forward and pressed a kiss against the hobbit’s soft cheek.

It was a simple fantasy, but one he’d cherished since he’d first imagined it.

And right now it was crumbling before his eyes. It was fading away with each trickle of Bilbo’s blood.

Thorin narrowed his eyes and understood what he had to do. It was amazing how clear the path was. The racing thoughts that had caused him to feel fuzzy headed and incapable of focusing calmed. One idea was rising above the others. One way that might offer success. He was amazed he hadn’t seen it before. It would mean the end of the Arkenstone, but that was acceptable.

Thorin would _never_ place a stone above Bilbo again. Not while he yet drew breath. He would be controlled by nothing, not even a stone as precious as this one.

“My Sanzeuh.” Thorin corrected with as dark a tone as he could manage. He carefully held his hand out to reveal the Arkenstone to Nikabrik’s gaze. He tightened his grip on Orcrist with the other hand. The stone worked its magic on the dwarf. His mouth popped open in wonder at the sight of it. Nikabrik leaned forward with lust heavy eyes, the tip of his knife nicking Bilbo’s skin.

Thorin’s resolve hardened with the hobbit’s quiet gasp of pain.. He drew his hand back and then tossed it forward with all of his might. The stone soared through the air and struck the side of the fireplace with a loud crack.

It shattered and fell to the ground in a flurry of colors as Nikabrik screamed. His hand dropped from Bilbo’s neck as he surged forward and Bilbo ducked out of the way.

Thorin rushed around the table as the dwarf screamed, and he brought the blade up to strike Nikabrik in the stomach. Bilbo’s cry filled the room as Nikabrik crumpled from the blow. The dwarf screamed in pain and Thorin wasted no time in bringing the blade back around. He saw Bilbo scuttling across the room to the side by the door out of the corner of his eyes and it made him relax slightly.

The blade struck true and Nikabrik fell to the ground, dead.


	22. Chapter 22

Bilbo’s head was spinning as he dropped to his knees. There was nothing for it. He couldn’t remain standing with how horribly everything was moving around him. His entire body ached, some parts dully, and some parts with a vengeful fire. He was having trouble breathing through his broken nose and around his broken rib.

He felt like he was suffocating and falling. The panic that had been oddly distant while Thorin faced Nikabrik down was now blocking the air in his chest. It was impossible to get it through his mouth with the iron lump in his throat.

His eyes were locked on the tiled floor and he couldn’t seem to lift his head. He needed to see what was going on.

The panic was clawing its way up his throat. His vision was turning hazy and he was tilting over. He needed _air._

A hand pressed against his back and started rubbing circles. Bilbo jerked hard at the unexpected contact, fearing the return of Nikabrik. He inhaled frantically through his nose, and his body automatically relaxed at the scent that filled his nostrils.

Thorin.

He leaned back into the hold, his entire body shaking. He curled his head under Thorin’s chin and closed his eyes. He couldn’t control the trembling. He wasn’t even sure why.

Thorin’s chest vibrated underneath him. The dwarf was saying something. Bilbo let his eyes slip closed and tried to remember what it sounded like. He imagined the soothing cadence drifting over him. It was a safe sound that let him know everything would be alright. Thorin would keep him and make sure he was not hurt.

His chest was roaring with pain and his entire face felt swollen, but Thorin was warm and solid. Bilbo didn’t want to leave the circle of his arms.

Thorin had destroyed the Arkenstone.

The dwarf said something else that Bilbo could not hear and then he found himself being lifted up as easily as if he weighed no more than a pillow. Thorin tucked him in close and pressed a kiss to his head before setting him on top of the table. He set Orcrist carefully down beside him, making certain Bilbo knew where it was.

It was touching to have someone that worried about his well being. That considerate about his limitations while not actively limiting him.

Thorin gathered his clothes and set them on Bilbo’s other side. The dwarf then pulled his breeches on with tender care, being mindful of his bruises and pressing a kiss to each one. It was warm and made the pain seem less important. Not when Thorin was apologizing for something that had not been his fault with loving kisses and pained tears.  

He put the Ring back around his neck, and it felt far heavier than it had ever felt before. Though, it might have just been the bruises he had.

The mithril shirt was slipped over his head and Bilbo couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around Thorin. He tugged him close and pressed his forehead against Thorin’s. The dwarf released a heavy breath on his face and closed his eyes with a slight shudder.

“Bilbo,” he said, and Bilbo’s heart gave a painful thump. He squeezed Thorin as tightly as he could and shut his eyes. He blocked everything that wasn’t Thorin out of his head and let himself feel safe.

They had sat still for an indeterminate amount of time when he felt Thorin take his left hand and uncurl his fingers. He popped his eyes open and looked down to see Thorin slipping his courting ring back on his finger.

“Sanzeuh.” He mumbled, the strange word falling off his tongue with an unknown sound. He wished he could hear Thorin say it just once.

Thorin drew back sharply and looked to the door. His hand found Orcrist and had it raised before Bilbo could blink. The dwarf stepped to the other side of the table and blocked him from view. Bilbo turned around to see what was going on, and felt his mouth drop open in surprise. Gandalf was standing in the doorway. He was looking around the room with a critical eye before he met Thorin’s gaze.

“It would seem I was not needed for this fight.” Gandalf observed wryly. He was searching his pockets for something. Bilbo slipped off the table and stepped around Thorin with a brush of his fingers against the dwarf’s arm. He had a bit to say to Gandalf. Namely that his plans left a lot to be desired.

And it had all happened because of a stupid quirk of his anatomy. What did it matter if hobbits could get pregnant? Fili would still be the heir to the throne. It was already declared. Thorin would not rob his nephew of his birthright.

“Nonetheless, I will waste no time now. We have very little of it, and I fear the worst. The Ring, Bilbo?” Gandalf pulled an envelope out of his cloak. Bilbo stared at it quizzically until Gandalf gave it a pointed shake.

The little air Bilbo had managed to find seemed to disappear. He hadn’t thought he’d have to be rid of it so soon. He’d only just escaped with his life. Surely he could take a moment? He was still trembling for Eru’s sake!

Gandalf extended the open envelope towards him and waited patiently.

Bilbo didn’t realize he’d taken it off from his neck until it caught the light and flashed. He regarded the Ring in his hand with a weary heart. It was heavy and cold on top of his palm, a weight that could not be ignored. He could see the light from the torches and the starlight that lit up the ceiling reflected in it’s smooth surfaces. They danced with shadows over the gold and Bilbo couldn’t look away. He could almost hear the Ring speaking to him.

It didn’t want to leave, and he did not want to part with it. It was his, why should he part with it?

He stretched his arm out slowly, and the Ring felt still heavier. It was over the envelope now. All he had to do was tilt his hand and he’d be rid of it. He would never get it back. He’d never be able to touch it or wear it again. He’d never disappear into the other world and never know the power it promised with each touch.

He’d never have to see the look in Thorin’s eyes each time he picked this... _trinket_ over him. He’d never act with the mindless panic that losing the Ring invoked in him. He’d never again look down and see he’d murdered something just to have it.

Bilbo tilted his hand and watched as the Ring started to slide off his palm. His hand spasmed violently, whether from panic or need to be rid of it, he wasn’t certain, and the Ring fell into the envelope. He took a quick step back and released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

He had done it. He’d voluntarily given whatever the thing was, away.

Gandalf snatched the envelope back and sealed it with quick, purposeful movements. He set a bit of wax on its seal and melted it down with the tip of his finger. He glanced up at Bilbo and offered him a reassuring smile.

Bilbo didn’t need it. He was already feeling that it was easier to breathe.

“This is too powerful to remain here, and yet I cannot keep it.” Gandalf considered the envelope in his hand with a furrowed brow and uncertain gaze. Bilbo had never seen the wizard uncertain, and he’d seen him in wildly different circumstances. He’d been there when their carefully laid plans had blown apart and when they’d been caught by utter surprise. But he’d never seen uncertainty.

“No. I cannot keep it. I will take it to Elrond in Rivendell and we will decide how to progress while our Enemy is weak.” Gandalf stood up, “The rangers will escort Gollum to Mirkwood. Thranduil is skilled in the art of healing, and he may be able to assist in bringing some measure of peace to the creature.” He tucked the envelope into his cloak and, with a final bow of his head, he was gone. Taking the ring with him. Nikabrik lay dead on the floor, his unseeing eyes distant.

Air seemed to have left the room. Bilbo felt like the world was spinning again. He stepped back and leaned against the table. He was confused. Gollum had been caught?

Bilbo’s mind was uncertain what to think. Already a deep longing was rising in his gut to chase after Gandalf and demand the Ring back, but he was a Baggins. He would not submit to the call.

The ring on his finger caught the light. He was now a Durin as well. It was impossible to be made of sterner stuff than the dwarves of that line.

No, the call of the Ring wasn’t the most important thing at that moment. It was something he would need to learn to bear, and he would start by simply ignoring it. He turned his head to see how his husband-to-be was doing, and promptly surged forward at the sight of him.

Thorin had bent over and was resting his palms on his knees as he dragged in deep gulps of air. His left arm trembled and his skin was pale.

Bilbo was an unthinking, cold, callous idiot. The Arkenstone was the greatest treasure in the kingdom. It was the only thing that had united all the dwarves, and was the last real piece of his grandfather that Thorin had.

And he’d just destroyed it so that he could save Bilbo’s life.

Bilbo wrapped his arms around Thorin’s middle and laid his cheek against his back. It hurt but it was a good pain. It cut through the fog of want in his mind and anchored him to the moment. He held on tightly and tried to offer some form of comfort to the king. Thorin shivered in his embrace before slowly turning so that he could properly hold Bilbo. The embrace changed minutely, and suddenly the dwarf was comforting Bilbo. His large hand cupped Bilbo’s cheek and his thumb brushed the skin beside his eyes.

He was staring at him in the way that always made his breath catch. This time it made Bilbo’s heart beat out of rhythm in his chest and his hands tremble at his side. The soft stare was free of the darkness that his lover had had of late.

He nearly sobbed.

“Bilbo,” Thorin’s eyes gazed over his face, taking in each hair and pausing over the streaks of blood from the earlier blow. “My Bilbo… You are sorry?”

Oh… He’d spoken without realizing it again. “That you had to do that.”

Thorin gave his head a little shake, but his gaze remained steadily on Bilbo. “Melekunel… Do you wish to know how I feel?”

Bilbo’s chest tightened and his body felt cold. Still, he needed to know. “Yes.”

“Free.” Thorin closed his eyes and his throat and mouth moved with a dry chuckle. “I feel free. I have not felt free since I was a child.” His pale eyes slowly slipped open and Bilbo wished to look into them but he would die before missing Thorin’s confession. “The urge is gone and you are safe. I thank you for that, Mizimel.”

Bilbo’s lips spread in a dazzling smile and he was stretching up to wrap his arms around Thorin’s neck. The dwarf wound his own arms around Bilbo’s hips and and lifted him up off the ground. He peppered kisses across Bilbo’s face and joyous delight pushed all thoughts of the Ring from Bilbo’s mind. Thorin spun him around in giddy circles and Bilbo didn’t care if it made him look like a hobbit child.

He was squashed against Thorin’s chest a moment later and the dwarf shook with the force of each breath leaving his body. Bilbo had tears streaking down his cheeks and he felt shaky with relief.

They were free.

-[]-[]-[]-

Thorin woke up with a bandaged hobbit still wrapped tightly in his arms. Bilbo had his cheek pressed against Thorin’s chest despite his bruises. They had stayed up the entire previous night and day until Thorin had finally just dismissed everyone and joined his hobbit in bed. Bilbo had welcomed him with a kiss and warm cuddle and they had not moved for the last ten hours.

It had all been Gollum.

The creature had learned of the companys appearance in the goblins’ cave and deduced that Bilbo was with them. He heard tale of their intent to recapture the Lonely Mountain and made his way there.

Mahal only knew how long he’d been skulking about in the dark places of the mountain. How many times had the unease Thorin felt been because of that horrible thing’s presence?

Regardless of the time he had spent in the kingdom, Gandalf had found him. Whatever the wizard had discovered with finding Gollum, it had made him frightened. More so than Thorin had ever seen. He had been almost frantic to take Bilbo’s Ring away.

He imagined they were well rid of it. It was a terrible relief to have the thing out of his reach.

He’d destroyed the Arkenstone. It had been a momentary whim, a way of distracting Nikabrik long enough to free Bilbo. A whim that had cost him the ‘greatest’ jewel the kingdom.

It was a bit surprising how free he felt now. The darkness in his mind had all but disappeared. It wasn’t a constant thrumming under his fingers. An aching call he couldn’t escape was silent.

Bilbo huffed against his skin. He mumbled something about radishes and tightened his arms around Thorin. He was warm and alive beneath Thorin’s hands. He could feel Bilbo’s pulse thumping under his fingers and it made his entire body feel more relaxed.

He’d slept through the entire night. He hadn’t even drank Bilbo’s tea. The nightmares hadn’t reared their ugly head and he hadn’t woken up feeling like he needed to flee for his life. He had dreamt of a future. He couldn’t remember what specifically. Only that it had been warm, bright, and full of so much color.

He wasn’t sure how to handle that. It seemed like it was all too good.

Bilbo sucked in a breath and stretched out. He blinked his eyes open and tilted his head back to look at Thorin. The blue-green orbs were hazy with sleep but they were untroubled. The hardness that had started to creep in over the past few months was all but gone.

Thorin pulled the hobbit close and drifted back off to sweet dreams.


	23. Chapter 23

_It is not the strength of the body that counts, but the strength of the spirit. - Tolkien_

 

* * *

  

Thorin secured Minty The Second to the post with one hand while he tugged a giggling mass away with the other. Tiny hands latched onto his sweater and fisted the material in sticky fingers. The four year old hoisted herself up as high as she could and jumped with utter excitement.

“Adad, adad, adad, adad!!” She squealed, waving her hand through the air with a bounce. He scooped her up with one arm and propped her on his hip while he finished securing his loyal pony. It had been a long month. They conflict about the Ring was building with every passing day. The last council had done nothing but make it clear how very little each race had in common. They could hardly stop arguing long enough to make any decisions. They knew that it was the Ring, the One Ring. The Ring that the Dark Lord had made to dominate all. It had been two years since it was officially identified, and politics had stopped all forward progress.

The simple trinket had the ability to bring all free people of Middle Earth to ruin. It also had the potential to bring an end to the greatest evil in Middle Earth. They simply had to know what to do with it.

Thorin would send Fíli to the next council meeting. Kíli after him. He might even just send Dís. She would see to it that the men and elves worked together to come to a common goal.

“Ghivashel, how are you?” He asked as he stepped away from the stable. Two dwarves were already on their way to take care of the pony. He looped his pack over his shoulder and started towards the kingdom doors. He dismissed all messengers that walked towards him with a subtle shake of his head.

Business would wait until he had seen his family. Time with his family was something he guarded more jealously than any treasure hoard.

“Adad, Fee got us a kitty!” Her brown curls fell about her face in disarray. Little twigs were stuck in the locks and she had a smear of dirt on her almost beardless face. She kicked her slightly large feet in the air with excitement and blinked her green eyes eagerly.

“Indeed?”

“And Kee got us a house to put him in.” Thorin nodded to the guards as he walked and took an immediate right. The hall was well used and lit by the slowly waning sunlight. Familiar faces passed by on all sides, each smiling and going about their daily business with little care. The path was one he had walked thousands of times. He could find his way with his eyes shut.

“He has? What type?”

“Yellow with a pretty green door. She doesn’t stay in it though.” Fanthra spoke as if it was the greatest calamity imaginable and it took a bit of work for Thorin to frown sympathetically.

“Well, we will have to teach her the benefit of home.” Thorin pushed the intricately designed glass door open and stepped into the large greenhouse. It was one of fifteen in Erebor. This was the largest by far, and the most developed. It mainly grew vegetables and was the one Bilbo enjoyed spending time in the most.

The hobbit in question was holding a baby on his hips while he patted dirt over small holes. “Always make sure to cover the seed, Frerin.” He instructed quietly. The dwobbit gurgled happily and stuffed his thumb in his mouth.

“Amad!” Fanthra shrieked before pushing at Thorin and reaching for Bilbo. The hobbit happened to look over and spotted the dwarf and girl. He grinned and stood up fluidly.

“You’re home early, Thorin.” He said as he walked across the garden. He had a smudge of dirt on his cheek and a large grin. His gold-red curls hung loosely about his head with only a single braid to be found in the locks. It was a marriage braid, and the bead that clasped it went well with the simple silver crown he wore. Thorin had wanted to crown him in something far more exotic but Bilbo was stubborn beyond reason.

Here the hobbit was clearly in his element and it made Thorin’s heart give a hard thump in his chest. He had missed this. The nights had been lonely and the meetings long without his Consort’s company, or his kin and friends presence.

He set Fanthra down and watched her run to Bilbo’s side. She grabbed his free hand and dragged him forward at a quick pace. Bilbo tipped slightly and Thorin rushed forward. He wrapped an arm around Bilbo in a hug, careful not to crush his child.

“I could not wait, Sanzeuh,” he breathed out before pressing a kiss to the hobbit’s lips. It was entirely too quick to be truly satisfying. “How are things here?” They never discussed business in front of their children if they could manage it.

“Well, my king. Your children have managed to behave. Your nephews though, are an entirely different manner.” Bilbo laughed lightly at the inquisitive raised eyebrow that earned him, and Thorin reveled in the musical sound. Fanthra tugged Bilbo’s hand to regain his attention.

Thorin chuckled and considered his son. The lad was looking at him with wide, curious eyes while he sucked on his thumb. He grinned shyly at Thorin from behind his hand. He tilted his head and removed the hand from his mouth.

“Ad,” he declared decisively and held his arms out. Thorin glanced at Bilbo who nodded his head. He took the baby boy and pressed a kiss to Bilbo'd cheek. A moment later and Frerin was laying securely in his arms and once again sucking happily on his thumb as he was moved so his head rested against Thorin’s chest. He waved the other hand through the air before catching hold of Thorin’s hair and weaving his fingers through the strands. He tugged the locks contentedly before pulling one of the beads to his mouth to chew on.

“Bear!” Fanthra jerked Bilbo back as she rushed towards a tiny grey cat that was darting between the tomatoes. Bilbo followed her with another light laugh.

“This is more than I thought would ever be mine.” Thorin confessed to his son as he watched his husband and daughter. The baby continued to babble to himself happily, unaware of what Thorin was saying in his excitement at discovering the shiny bead. It felt good to express the love that was bubbling up so much in his chest. The dwarf pressed a kiss to the golden head and continued. “I dared not hope that I could have so much. Reclaiming Erebor seemed far more than I deserved. After all I have done... To be given this, a family… It is a treasure that I could never earn.” He pressed another kiss to the tiny head and inhaled the earthy scent. He had found a home not in the kingdom he’d sought to recover, or the gold he'd so jealously guarded. No, he'd found it in the quiet warmth of love he felt and received from his hobbit. Bilbo had given him children and a purpose he had never dreamed of. He had given him a home and joy that had nothing to do with walls.

He had three meetings to attend, and several dwarves to update. War was coming from the men of the east, and more dark creatures had been seen in Mordor. There future was anything but certain. Each day the darkness in the world seemed to grow stronger.

But he had more than he could count. His daughter was coaxing a timid kitten from the plants while his watched with proud eyes. His son was giggling at the world in utter amazement at the wonder around him, and Erebor was prospering.

Darkness lay ready to fight and overtake, but Thorin was not afraid. He had found his light and hope, and there was nothing that could overtake it. No madness could touch what was contained in this garden. It held a power that darkness did not understand. A power that nothing else could overtake. Thorin had something worth fighting for. He had more than a kingdom, he had a home.

Dawn had broken over Erebor, and it made the future look bright with promise.

Thorin had finally found his peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I basically wrote this because I wanted to explore the idea of what would happen to the hobbit and dwarves if they were subjected to the Ring. I was very curious about Bilbo and Thorin's mental state with it near. Thorin obviously became my main focus, and I have to say, it was a lot of fun. The madness mixing with the call of the Ring, and the guilt from Bilbo allowed me to revel in writing emotions and thoughts and that's where I get the most excitement from writing.
> 
> Thank you all for reading this tale. It turned a lot bigger than I intended and got darker than I had anticipated. That's the Ring for you though, innit?
> 
> Thank you to each person who took the time to 'kudo' and comment. It's been a blast conversing with all of you, and learning about what you think about the entire thing. I have another story in the work that will be largely Bilbo's POV, but I am very VERY eager to return to Thorin's head because I rather liked it there.
> 
> Also, I take prompts and request if any of you have one :)


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